


The Secret World Of Spencer Elmer

by MrDalliard24601



Category: Cthulhu Mythos - Fandom, RPF - Fandom, Social Media - Fandom, Spencer Elmer - Fandom, youtube - Fandom
Genre: Battlestargalactica - Freeform, Clarkashtonsmith, Dungeons&Dragons - Freeform, HarryPotter - Freeform, Other, Pokemon, She-ra - Freeform, Starwars - Freeform, Thundercats - Freeform, elderscrolls - Freeform, elmofilms, he-man - Freeform, hplovecraft
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:22:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 33,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27424171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrDalliard24601/pseuds/MrDalliard24601
Summary: Far from home, Youtuber and Social Media personality Spencer Elmer makes his way in a world very different from our own.





	1. Boss Fight

Spencer found the victims a couple of miles east of Mazanda Township. Their half burned bodies had been staked out on the parched ground, fair game for the buzzards. Five of them in total, two adults and three children, a family of settlers displayed in a grisly scene in front of the burnt out farmhouse where they’d once lived, worked, and played.

He approached the devastation with caution, his zebra-wolf mount letting out a low deep growl. Spencer patted the neck of the huge beast to calm it and dismounted a few feet away from the bodies. Pulling his wide-brimmed hat down over his eyes, to protect against the glare of the noonday sun, he went over to investigate the scene.

The bodies were pretty much unrecognisable thanks to the burning and they had been cruelly mutilated. He grimaced as he looked them over and then headed away to check out the ruined farmhouse.

When he reached the porch he sensed he was being watched. He pretended to be oblivious to his unseen observer and moved amongst the wreckage, drawing closer to an upturned dresser. Suddenly, he spotted a gaunt grey figure from the corner of his eye. It rushed at him from the shadows, grabbing him by the shoulders. Spencer brought up his arm and elbowed the figure hard in the stomach. His attacker loosened their grip and let out a high pitched screech. Spencer pulled his blaster from his holster. 

“Hold it right there,” he ordered, glaring at the scrawny ghoul clad in filthy rags. The ghoul’s yellow eyes widened with fear and he fell to his knees.

“Please don’t shoot!” he begged. “Gurni didn’t mean it!”

“That was a dumb move, my friend,” said Spencer, training his blaster at the ghoul’s head. 

“Yes, yes, very dumb,” the ghoul agreed eagerly. “Gurni is so dumb, so dumb, but dumb Gurni didn’t mean it. Poor Gurni sees fresh young meat and can’t help himself. Please forgive Gurni! Weak Gurni is harmless really. Gurni can’t hurt a strong fella like you!”

Spencer narrowed his eyes. “Those people out there, did you have anything to do with what happened to them? Tell the truth. I’ll know if you’re lying.”

Gurni shook his head. “No sir. Not me. Boss Vinti and his gang did for them, poor suckers. They came and did all this. Gurni lives in the caves not far from here. Gurni sees what him and his men do. Nasty business. Gurni cry. Stupid settlers wouldn’t pay the Boss protection money like everyone else around here does. They just come here and think they can do as they want. Boss Vinti taught them different.”

At the mention of Vinti’s name, Spencer had become very interested. “What do you know about Vinti?”

A crafty look entered the ghoul’s eyes. “Bounty hunter, ain’t you? Gurni knows. More than that. You’re . . . reality lost. This not your world, right? You come from another place much different from here, much different. Fell through a portal, happens sometimes, when the veil gets thin, or the Watcher In The Sea snatches up some poor sap and drops them in Hyperborea for a big belly laugh. Yeah, Gurni see it now. You are . . . Earth Man, right?”

Spencer’s jaw tightened. “How do you know that?”

The vile creature giggled. “Ghouls know,” he said, tapping the side of his head with one hook shaped fingernail. “Ghouls have gifts, powers. Folks says ghouls is stupid and dirty, but we smarter than they think. Old Gurni’s smart, knows everything that goes on in town, knows about Boss Vinti and his gang. Gurni can be real useful to you.”

Spencer stared at the creature and tightened his finger on the trigger. The smart thing to do was to shoot the ghoul. He knew far too much about him and Spencer couldn’t trust him, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Unlike many others on Hyperborea, he still refused to kill in cold blood.

The ghoul was right of course, about where Spencer had come from. He couldn’t fully remember everything that happened on that fateful night. There had been a strange light and the sudden sensation of falling. The next thing he knew he was sprawled on the ground in one of the dark, dangerous forests of the strange and brutal world of Hyperborea. Frightened and confused, he wouldn’t have survived that first terrifying night if he hadn’t been found by a passing company of Orc mercenaries. They’d given him food and shelter and taught him about life on Hyperborea, his new home. After many harsh lessons he’d managed to carve out something of a niche for himself as a bounty hunter on this distant planet.

Cautiously, he holstered his blaster. “All right, you can help me, but no tricks or you’ll regret it.”

“Thank you kind sir,” Gurni said with relief. “You’ll not regret it. Gurni is very useful. Knows many secrets, but not know your name.”

“It’s Spencer,” he said and turned and walked out of the farmhouse. Gurni scurried after him.

Spencer looked around at the farmstead. The place had been completely wasted but he did spot a tool shed that was relatively unscathed. He walked over to it and pulled open the door. 

The curious ghoul watched him as he went inside. “So you’ve come to take down Boss Vinti,” he said, peering through the door. “Gurni knows someone would try sooner or later. Who sent ya? The Boodean Brothers? No? Granny Skullgrind maybe? She hates him something rotten.”

“Don’t you know?” Spencer drawled. “You seemed to have all the answers a minute ago.”

“Ghouls only get glimpses,” Gurni replied. “Jumbles of visions, flashes of insights. We can’t read minds.”

“The Griffin Federation hired me,” replied Spencer, deciding to level with the ghoul. “Vinti’s been sending a squad of assault robots to raid merchant caravans and small villages all along the Nomad Frontier and they want it stopped.” He paused in his story as he searched around the tool shed and spotted what he wanted. He picked up the shovel and headed back outside again. “The Federation has no jurisdiction this side of the mountains and they don’t want to stir up the local warlords by sending troops over the border, so, they sent me to bring Vinti in. I’m to deliver him to Fort Axblade.”

“You should kill him!” the ghoul said eagerly. “He deserves it! He likes to torture, he really enjoyed what he did to that settler family.”

“My policy is to bring criminals in alive,” said Spencer, “but in Vinti’s case the Griffs aren’t too fussy.”

The ghoul nodded. He scampered back to the staked out bodies. He was just about to gnaw on the charred flesh of one of the corpse’s arms when Spencer pushed him away with the shovel. “Not for you.”

Gurni looked indignant. “But Gurni hungry and they taste much better cooked!”

“They’re having a proper burial. Leave them alone.”

“Waste of good meat!” retorted the ghoul, but a dark look from Spencer silenced him. The ghoul skulked over to a pile of rocks as Spencer started to dig.

* * * 

Tired and dusty after digging the graves of the settlers, Spencer remounted his zebra-wolf and carried on to the town. His new ally Gurni scampered behind him. 

Mazanda Township was a miserable cluster of buildings nestled in the shallow valley floor. Most of the inhabitants were miners, farmers, and ranchers trying to scratch out a meagre living, just as the family of settlers had done before the Boss put them to death. Spencer was thinking of those settlers now as he approached the town, imagining how they had suffered, and his hatred for Vinti intensified. He rode slowly through Mazanda’s only main street, a wide strip of cracked earth, flanked by squalid buildings. A large two storey structure sat midway down the street. A sign hanging over its entrance spelled out The Snake Pit in flickering Neon letters.

“That’s where the Boss runs things,” Gurni said, coming up alongside the zebra-wolf. “The saloon is his headquarters.” 

Spencer nodded. The few people out on the metal sidewalks had stopped what they were doing to openly stare at the stranger and his ghoul companion. A furtive looking man in oil stained dungarees darted out from the porch of the general store and hurried into the saloon.

Spencer smiled to himself. “I guess he’s going to announce my arrival to Vinti.”

“Gurni better go,” Gurni said. “The Boss don’t like Gurni much.”

“Aren’t you worried he might punish you for helping me?” Spencer asked.

“Those goons can’t catch old Gurni,” the ghoul chuckled. “Besides, you gonna take him down so it won’t matter soon.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Spencer said, looking up at the saloon again. There was no reply from the ghoul and when he glanced down again he found that the creature had disappeared.

Spencer was alone, which was how he preferred it. Dismounting, he tied his zebra-wolf to the hitching post and entered the saloon. It was a dark and dingy barroom full of metal tables welded to the floor. What few patrons were in there, sat nursing their drinks in miserable silence. Curious eyes latched onto him as he walked nonchalantly towards the bar counter.

The barkeep, a four-armed Ovion, ambled over to him. “What’ll it be?”

“Water,” Spencer said, sitting down on one of the bar stools.

The insectoid creature look puzzled. “What?”

“Water, ma’am,” Spencer repeated, giving her a polite smile. “You serve it?”

“Sure,” the barkeep said shrugging her rounded shoulders. “One water coming up.”

As she turned away to fetch his drink Spencer scanned the gloomy interior of the bar. At the far end of the room was a door marked private. The man in dungarees emerged from it and slipped away through the shadows toward the saloon entrance.

“Okay, one water,” the barkeep announced as she returned to the counter.

Spencer stared down at the tall glass of greenish liquid in front of him. It had a frothy head on it and dark bits of sediment were floating around at the bottom of the glass. 

“That’s water?” Spencer asked.

The Ovion widened her mandibles into an approximation of a smile. “It’s what passes for water in these parts. Something wrong with it?”

“No ma’am,” Spencer replied. “That’ll do just fine.”

“Good. It’s on the house. If you manage to get it down without puking up your liver you win a hot date with me later,” the barkeep replied. She suddenly jerked her head up and her orange compound eyes fixed on a point behind his left shoulder.

Spencer glanced over, following her line of sight. A burly Sharkman in combat fatigues and with a nasty looking scar running diagonally across his snout was moving towards the counter. On the way to the town, Spencer had questioned Gurni on the members of Boss Vinti’s gang and assumed that the Sharkman was Krigg, a particularly brutal and vicious enforcer in the Boss’s employ. 

Spencer looked away to contemplate the glass of green water, wondering if it tasted as bad as it smelled. Krigg came up and stood right next to him.

“Who are you?” the Sharkman said in a brusque voice.

Spencer slid him a cool look, noting the blaster hanging from the Sharkman’s gun belt. “Who are you?”

The Sharkman scowled and licked his dark blue lips. “I’m Krigg. I run things around here.”

“I thought Boss Vinti ran things around here.”

“I represent his interests,” Krigg replied, his tone low and menacing. “He don’t like strangers. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll ride straight out of here.”

“That would be a shame,” said Spencer, putting his plan to snare the Boss into action. “I came all this way to see him. I figure he could use someone like me.”

Krigg snorted. “You figured wrong. The Boss ain’t hiring.”

“I want to hear that from the Boss himself,” Spencer replied, “not his flunky. Go fetch him, will you? Tell him the name’s Elmer.”

The Sharkman grabbed Spencer by his shoulder. “You little runt! I’m gonna beat you to a pulp!”

Before Krigg could pull him off his stool, Spencer snatched up the glass of water and threw it in the Sharkman’s face. Krigg let him go and Spencer slipped off the stool. The Sharkman pulled his blaster from his holster, but Spencer kicked it out of his hand before he could use it and it went flying across the barroom floor. Krigg lashed out and caught him on the side of his ribcage. Pain lanced through him, but he maintained his balance. The Sharkman swung a punch aimed at Spencer’s head. He dodged it, using his speed and slight build to his advantage. He then delivered a roundhouse kick directed at Krigg’s stomach. His foot connected with solid muscle and he winced in pain.

Krigg grinned and grabbed his ankle, twisting it hard. On the floor of the bar was the glass of spilled water. Spencer managed to snatch it up and smashed it over the Sharkman’s head.

Krigg let go of his grip and Spencer rammed his elbow into the fearsome creature’s throat. Krigg let out a choking groan and staggered backwards. The blow was not enough to bring him down though, and he swiftly recovered. Letting out a howl of fury he lunged at the bounty hunter. Spencer grabbed a nearby barstool and brought it up legs out to defend himself. Krigg came on like a juggernaut, meaning to pulverize him.

“That’ll do Krigg,” said a deep commanding voice over to Spencer’s left.

Krigg suddenly stopped a foot or so from Spencer and put down his large arms. He shot Spencer a look of pure hate.

“You can put the barstool down now too, Mr Elmer,” the voice drawled. “Krigg won’t bite you . . . unless I tell him too.”

Spencer glanced over in the direction of the speaker. A heavyset man in a smart grey suit and blue waistcoat had been watching the brawl in cold amusement. Spencer lowered the bar stool and nodded to the man. “You must be Vinti.”

“Boss Vinti,” the man corrected him as drifted closer. Three other fierce looking men were with the Boss, armed with blasters and fitting the broad descriptions Gurni had given him of the rest of his gang. “You put on quite the show there.”

“Let me finish him Boss,” said Krigg. “Don’t believe all that garbage that he wants to work for you.”

“I’m not sure it is garbage, Krigg,” Boss Vinti said. “Mr Elmer here could have pulled his blaster on you, but he didn’t. I’m guessing he wanted to show me what he could do in a hand to hand fight.”

“That’s right,” Spencer said. “Like I said to your boy here, I’m looking for work, and you’re the kind of man who can best appreciate my abilities.”

“Who you calling a boy?” bellowed Krigg, advancing on Spencer again. 

Boss Vinti raised his hand impatiently. “Quit it Krigg!” he ordered. “I want to hear what this young man has to say.”

Spencer watched the Boss closely, preparing to launch into action. Vinti just had to move a little nearer and he’d be able to activate the stun ring he wore on his finger. The ring would shoot out a ray of energy that’d knock the Boss cold along with the rest of the gang. He could then just carry the Boss to his zebra-wolf and ride on out of here. The only problem was that Krigg wasn’t in his line of sight and he might take Spencer down before he had a chance to put the Sharkman out of action. He had to get Krigg in front of him. 

“Like I say, I can be useful to you,” Spencer said, “as long as you pay well.”

Boss Vinti slipped his thumbs into the pockets of his waistcoat. “We better have a little talk about that. Let’s step into the office.”

The Boss ambled away and he and the rest of his men filed through the door marked private. Spencer was tempted to use the ring right now, but Vinti was out of its range and Krigg was right behind him, so he decided to bide his time and go into the office with them.

They entered a small wood paneled room and Boss Vinti settled down behind the big desk at its center. He gestured for Spencer to sit down in the chair opposite him. The gang members all went to conveniently stand directly behind their leader. This was perfect.

“Okay,” said the Boss, “you’re pretty handy with your fists and a skillful fighter, but I got plenty of brawn and dumb muscle. I need brains too. What else can you do?”

“I have a few tricks up my sleeve,” Spencer said with a smile. He raised his hand and pressed down on the stone in the center of the stun ring. It released a beam of white light that knocked everybody unconscious. The gang fell to the floor and Boss Vinti slumped forward onto his desk.

Spencer jumped to his feet and ran over to the door. He peeped outside to make sure no-one had heard the disturbance. Everything looked quiet and the few patrons in the barroom were minding their own business. 

Next, he took out a small stub nosed pistol which he aimed at the unconscious Vinti. A glowing orb shot out of it and the big man was suddenly enveloped in a large bubble which floated up a few feet into the air with him sealed completely inside it. Spencer rolled up his sleeve and pulled out the length of cord from inside the small compartment set into his leather bracer. Using the small suction pad on the end of the cord he attached it the surface of the stasis bubble. The bubble would keep Boss Vinti in a state of suspended animation and regulate his life functions until Spencer got him back to Fort Axblade. Before Vinti knew it, he’d wake up and find himself in a prison cell without the slightest clue as to how he even got there. 

As he left the office, towing Vinti behind him, he cast one glance at the unconscious gang. The stun blast would leave them out cold for at least eight hours and he’d have a good head start before they could mount any kind of pursuit. That only left getting the Boss passed the townsfolk, but Spencer doubted any of them would be eager to come to their tormentor’s rescue. He looked at the unconscious Vinti. All of this had been a little too easy. Something wasn’t right here. Spencer shrugged the feeling off. With any luck he’d be over the border in two days’ ride and this business would be concluded.

None of the patrons even looked up as he made his way with his prisoner across the barroom floor. The only person who noticed him was the Ovion barkeep. She was slouched at the counter cleaning out a glass with the corner of her grubby apron. She looked up at him and their eyes met. Her gaze lingered on him for a few seconds and then slid over the Boss.

Spencer’s instincts were now screaming at him that something was wrong. He set down the stasis bubble and deactivated it, letting Boss Vinti tumble out onto the floor. Detracting the cord back into the bracer, he bent down to take a closer look at the unconscious man. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary. He reached out and touched the Boss’s hand. It was icy cold. Spencer got to his feet and was just about to activate the stasis bubble again when the Boss’s body blurred for just a fraction of a second and Spencer saw a glimpse of metal.

“All right,” he called out to the bar, turning and drawing his blaster as he did so. “You can quit the pretense. I know this is a robot.”

There was a flash of blue light and the bulky shape of Boss Vinti transformed into a tall, slender robot. From the other side of the bar a man that looked like Boss Vinti stepped forward carrying a laser rifle. Gurni, now dressed in a dark suit, was at his side.

The Boss aimed the rifle at Spencer’s chest. “Damn ghoul said the illusion would hold in place until you got all the way to Fort Axblade.”

“It would have done,” snapped Gurni, dropping his act of sniveling subservience. “I warned you this could happen. He’s from Earth, remember? They see and sense things we can’t. You knew the risk!”

Spencer frowned. “You wanted me to take in a robot? Why? The fort has mages who’d have seen through the illusion in no time at all.”

“They wouldn’t have done so before the plasma bomb inside that robot detonated. The robot was programmed to explode as soon as it was behind the fort’s walls. It would have levelled the whole place and killed most of the legion stationed there with any luck,” replied Boss Vinti. “It was a clever little plan. I even put my gang on the line to make it look convincing, but you were just too suspicious for your own good.”

“You knew I was coming to claim the bounty,” Spencer said flatly. “All of this was a set-up.”

Gurni gave him a wide grin of rotting green teeth. “I told you, ghouls see things, not just the past but the future too. I got a vision of you coming to claim the bounty on the Boss. I can also weave illusions too. Make you think the robot was the Boss. Clever, eh?”

“That’s what gave me the idea,” Boss Vinti said proudly. “It’d take months for the Griffs to rebuild the fort and bring in more troops from the north, leaving the whole frontier ripe for the picking. Best part, you’d do the dirty work and get blown to pieces in the process so there’d be no loose ends to tie up.” 

“All very nice and neat,” Spencer said in a sarcastic tone. “What happens now?”

Boss Vinti shrugged his shoulders. “You’re no use to me alive now. Better just to get rid of you and figure out another way to get the robot into the fort.”

Spencer levelled his gun at the Boss. “I might be a faster shot than you. Worse case scenario, we both end up killing each other.”

“Maybe, maybe not, but this ain’t a fair fight,” Boss Vinti said with a cruel smile. “Robot! Kill!”

Activated by the Boss’s voice command, the robot on the floor sprang into life. It jumped up and tried to throttle Spencer. Spencer struggled to break free, aiming his blaster at the robot’s head. At the same moment Boss Vinti opened fire. A spear of red energy shot out towards him, but Spencer pulled the robot in front of his body just at the right moment and the laser bolt hit it straight in the back. Showers of sparks erupted from the machine and it slumped into Spencer’s arms.

Swiftly, Spencer used the now defunct robot as a shield and opened fire from behind it on the Boss. Two crackling laser blasts hit the big man square in the chest, flinging him backwards. Spencer then swung his gun round to take aim at the ghoul, but Gurni was nowhere to be seen.

“Don’t worry,” the barkeep called out. “Gurni ran off when he saw the odds were against him. Thanks for sorting out the Boss for us.”

Cautiously, Spencer lowered the smoking robot to the ground and looked around. The patrons were staring at him in silence from their hiding places under the bar tables.

“We’ll take care of the robot,” the Ovion said, “and the rest of the gang. Without Boss Vinti behind them they’ll not cause any more trouble.”

Spencer nodded to her and holstered his blaster. He walked over to Boss Vinti’s body and took out a small control device from his jacket pocket. The device was an astral scanner which took an ID picture and a soul scan to prove to the officials at Fort Axblade that the Boss was well and truly dead, so that he would be able to claim his bounty. That finished, he said his farewells to the barkeep and went outside to his waiting zebra-wolf. His mission here was done.


	2. Soul Searchers

Abeo ran for his life. Gripped with terror, he crashed headlong through the undergrowth like a hunted animal. The forest closed in around him, dark and forbidding. Branches caught at his arms, and the ground was treacherous beneath his feet.

Somewhere behind him came a terrified scream, followed by frantic cries for mercy. He recognized the voice as belonging to Hanz, and listened in anguish as the poor man babbled and begged for his life. Abruptly, his cries were cut off.

Abeo let out a half-strangled sob as he pressed on. He had been an idiot for not obeying his mother and staying at home. But he couldn't help it. He'd wanted to be with her and the hunting party when they closed in on the monster that had been terrorizing their village for so long. He had wanted retribution for what the Chain Devil had done Bekka, the sweet daughter of the village baker who Abeo had the biggest crush on. She had been the latest member of their little community to be brutally murdered by the Devil, and Abeo was consumed with fury and grief.

What good had that hunger for revenge done him? What good had it done his mother? She was out here now somewhere, running for her life along with the rest of them. The Chain Devil was too powerful, too deadly. He tried to look for her but in the darkness and confusion it was impossible. All he could do was hope she made it back to the village.

Somewhere to the left of him he heard the ominous clanking of chains. He lurched off to the right in panic, smashing through the thick undergrowth.

He cut through the dark like a knife as fast as he could, but the sound of the chains grew louder. The Devil was keeping pace with him and, and worse still, he had no way of defending himself. In the mad rush to escape the pursuing horror, he'd stupidly dropped his late father's old laser rifle. 

Just by chance, he burst out of the brush and suddenly found himself on the broad flat road of macadam that ran through the length of the forest. By the pallid light of the moon he recognized the broad geography of his surroundings. He bolted left along the road in the direction of the village.

Suddenly, from the darkness behind him, a chain shot out with terrifying speed. It wrapped tightly around Abeo's waist. He cried out in terror as the chain was yanked back with enough force behind it to take him clean off his feet. He clawed at the hard earth of the road in a futile attempt to escape his fate. It was no use and he whispered one final prayer as he turned to look up into the mocking eyes of the Chain Devil.

* * *

Kaseeda woke in a sea of pain and confusion. Every inch of her body hurt and harsh sunlight streamed down from the open sky above. It took a fraction of a second for her to realize somebody was carrying her. She looked up at the narrow torso and vaguely human-like face of 8D8, the village's ancient servo-droid. It was plodding along on its piston driven legs through the sunlit forest.

Now, in horribly vivid detail, the events of last night flooded her mind. She and the other ten members of the hunting party had ventured out after dark to finally confront the Chain Devil that had been plaguing their lives and those of the village for so long. Yalt's newly forged battleaxe was supposed to finish the beast once and for all. The surly blacksmith had received a vision from Hephaestus, the god of smithy work, who had instructed him to forge a battleaxe of pure Eternium. The magical metal would slice through the dozens of living chains that sprouted from the Devil's body and allow the others to blast the monster to pieces. The burgomaster had been doubtful of the undertaking, but Bekka's recent death was the final straw and he sanctioned the hunting party to make the attempt. Their task was made easier by the fact that the Eternium weapon would glow with magical energy that would point them in the direction of a supernatural creature, leading them right to the Devil. The hunting party took that to be another sign that Hephaestus' blessings were with them, and true enough, the battleaxe led them to a clearing where they found the Chain Devil. The hulking monster stood with his back to them, bathed in the ghostly light of the moon. The living chains studded with hooks and spikes that grew out of his body waved gently like flower stalks in the breeze. Their prey never made a single move when Yalt rushed to attack with his enchanted weapon. One of the living chains came up in an almost desultory gesture just as Yalt was about to drive the battleaxe into the Devil's back. The weapon shattered upon contact with the chain and cold mocking laughter had filled the clearing. Yalt was the first to die. He barely put up a struggle as the monster spun around and another chain tipped with a long spike impaled him through the chest.

After that initial shock the hunting party started firing their laser rifles for all they were worth. The Chain Devil moved with deadly speed, dodging the laser blasts and descending on them in a killing frenzy, catching Timothy in the throat with the wickedly curved hook at the end of one of his chains. The poor man had been smashed against a tree and then left to bleed to death on the ground. Kris had been next, followed quickly by his brother Gunther, before Juliet's arm was taken clean off.

After that, Kaseeda and the remaining survivors gave up the fight and fled. Kaseeda looked back just once, to see Hanz being wrapped in chains and pulled toward the Chain Devil's clutches, his screams for help resounding through the forest.

To her eternal shame, Kaseeda kept on running. There was nothing she could do for him now. In the mad dash to get away, she dropped her flashlight and rifle and ran on blindly, losing track of the others. She lost her footing and went tumbling down a steep verge. She must have hit her head on a rock at the bottom, because she'd blacked out at that point, remembering nothing more until she came to just now.

"8D8," she said in a croaky voice, "you can put me down please. I can walk the rest of the way."

8D8 looked down at her in silence and came to a halt so she could get up. Her legs were shaky when she stood upright on solid ground, but after a few moments she was fine to walk. Getting her bearings, she saw that they were close to the village and she set off in its direction. 8D8 lumbered along behind her.

There was no sign of anyone awake in Fellwick Village when she reached the main square. The stout, timbered framed houses were shuttered up and an ominous silence pervaded everywhere. Kaseeda's first impulse was to head straight home and check on Abeo, but she had a duty to report to the burgomaster of the failure of the hunting party, if he didn't know already.

She saw a light on in one of the widows of the long rectangular building that served as the village hall and decided to see who was there. When she reached it, the front door opened and Laerdron, the village healer, stepped out onto the porch to meet her.

Kaseeda gave him a grim look. "Laerdron, we failed. The rest of the hunting party –"

"I know, Kaseeda," Laerdron said quietly, cutting her off. The Dinorep's flat, feline face was a picture of utter desolation. "The bodies of the others were left outside the village hall. We discovered them first thing this morning. When you weren't with the others I sent out 8D8 out to look for you. I'm glad that you are safe."

The information came as no surprise, but it still hit her like a fist in the stomach. Through the simple act of surviving she felt that she'd done something wrong. By not dying with the others, Kaseeda had failed and was beset with a deep sense of guilt.

"I have to get home," she said numbly. "I have to see Abeo." The look in Laerdron's large orange eyes when she mentioned her son sent a bolt of fear straight through her. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"Kaseeda," Laerdron said, his voice ragged with pain. "I think Abeo followed you out last night. We . . . we found him alongside the rest of the hunting party. He's been laid out inside the hall with them."

Kaseeda stared at him, unable to comprehend what he was saying. "Abeo? No, that's impossible."

"I'm sorry, Kaseeda," Laerdron replied. "Truly I am."

"No," Kaseeda gasped. "No!"

Before he could stop her, Kaseeda rushed into the village hall. The bodies of the hunting party had been laid out in two neat rows on the floor, covered over with white bed sheets now stained red. Kaseeda stared down at them, her heart pounding in her chest. She counted eleven bodies when there should have only been ten.

She was vaguely aware of the door opening behind her. Laerdron stepped inside to join her. His head was bowed.

"Which one is Abeo?" Kaseeda asked. Her voice was tight with emotion.

"I don't think you should see him, Kaseeda," Laerdron said slowly. "What that thing did – "

"Which one?" Kaseeda said again, trying to stay calm. "Please, Laerdron. I have to see him with my own eyes."

The Dinorep nodded, and together they walked between the two rows of bodies until they came to the one at the far end of the left hand row. Kaseeda, her legs trembling, stood perfectly rigid as Laerdron knelt down and pulled back the sheet.

What was left of Abeo lay beneath it. Kaseeda's head began to spin and she couldn't breath. She rushed out of the rear door of the hall. Laerdron followed her out in silence and waited as she doubled over and vomited behind a tree.

When she was done, he helped her to her feet. They went in silence over to his workshop where he prepared his potions and tinctures. While she sat in a chair in a shocked daze, he prepared a sleeping potion for her and told her to drink it. She tried to resist, but was too exhausted to argue and swallowed the potion down without complaint. Once done, he placed her in the sleeping cot in the corner of the room and put a blanket over her. As the potion began to start working, she closed her eyes, and one thought burned in her mind. No matter what, she would kill the Chain Devil for taking her boy from her.

* * *

For almost three weeks Kaseeda lived in a dark labyrinth of grief and despair. It all seemed like some kind of nightmare and any minute now she'd wake up and Abeo would be alive again, sitting by the fireplace composing lyrics for one of his ballads or sneaking off before he'd finish his choirs to flirt with the girls. But it was no nightmare. It was all too real. Abeo was gone, leaving behind a cold and empty mother. In those terrible days she threw herself into her work, and the three other woodcutters who operated the lumber mill with her did their best to help her through this dark time.

There were no further attacks by the Chain Devil in that period, the longest the village had gone without since this whole dark business had begun, and people started to wonder if their ordeal was finally over. Then, Nancy Skellett was snatched from her bed in the dead of night while her husband slept beside her. Oblivious to what had happened he found her mutilated body sitting upright at the breakfast table the next morning. Wild with grief, Drad Skellett drowned himself in the river. Kaseeda yearned to do the same, but until her son had been avenged she wouldn't permit herself the sweet release of death.

A couple of the days after this double tragedy, a small bat-winged humanoid flew over the village and landed at the burgomaster's house. The visitor was a Nycter, a member of the race of creatures who operated as messengers and postal couriers across the Sharkman Duchy. A short time after the Nycter flew away, Rowan, Laerdron's apprentice, hurried over to the lumber mill with instructions to take Kaseeda to see the burgomaster straightaway. When she arrived at his home, she found him and Laerdron sat together in the dining room. There was a letter laid out in front of them.

"We've received word from the garrison," the healer said. "They are sending us some help."

"Finally," Kaseeda replied as she sat down to join them. "How many warriors are we getting? I reckon we'll need at least a whole a legion and a company of Battle Mages as backup."

The burgomaster, an elderly man with watery grey eyes and a drooping white mustache, covered his face with his hands and let out a low moan. The ordeal in his beloved Fellwick had taken its toll, leaving the once cheerful and goodhearted man a broken wreck. The monster had killed his daughter, Lyra, early on in the campaign of terror, and this latest failure with the hunting party had utterly crushed him.

Kaseeda looked sharply at Laerdron. "What's the matter?"

The Dinorep stared down at his paws. "They are only sending one."

"One warrior?" Kaseeda exclaimed. "What good is that?"

"He's not a warrior," Laerdron clarified. "He doesn't even serve the Duke. He's a bounty hunter. They've hired him to help us destroy the Chain Devil."

Kaseeda couldn't believe what she was hearing. "What can one man do?"

"The letter says he's fought one of these creatures before," Laerdron replied, trying to sound optimistic and failing miserably. "He has knowledge we don't have. He's already on his way and should be arriving within the week."

The burgomaster suddenly jerked up his head. "Within the week, you say? Then we must prepare a great feast. We used to have wonderful celebrations back in the old days. Lyra will sing for our guest, she has a beautiful voice. People would come for miles just to listen to her sing. Her voice is beautiful, so beautiful." He paused and gave them a confused look. "Who did you say is coming?"

Kaseeda looked at the burgomaster in abject pity. His rapidly declining physical and mental health had left her and Laerdron as the de facto leaders of the community. Many of the Village Elders had already been murdered by the monster.

Laerdron smiled kindly at the burgomaster. "I think you need to get some rest now," he said in his usual gentle manner.

"But we must prepare a feast for our visitor!" the burgomaster protested, shooting to his feet. "You know we once had the First Minister of the Duke himself visit us. He was doing a tour of the Duchy and we held such a wonderful celebration for him. That was the proudest day of my life. Lyra sang before us and he was quite smitten, you know. I must go and tell her at once! She will be so excited!" He abruptly stopped talking and sank heavily back into his chair. "My little girl is gone, isn't she?" he said in a lucid voice.

"Yes Brindle," Laerdron replied sadly.

The burgomaster seemed to fall in on himself. He stared vacantly into space, saying nothing more.

"I'll go to the garrison," Kaseeda said in a firm voice. "I'll force them to send proper warriors to help us. Some drifting bounty hunter working for coin is no use! I doubt he'll even turn up!"

Laerdron shook his head. "It's too far and too dangerous to go alone. You know that. Even if you got there alive they will not send anyone else to help. The Duke doesn't care about backwater villages like ours. We must wait and see what this man can do for us."

Kaseeda seethed with frustration, knowing full well Laerdron was right. The Duke would send no more help. All he cared about was collecting the taxes that funded his extravagant lifestyle and the raids over the border the Duchy shared with the Griffin Federation. They'd been lucky that the garrison had even bothered to send this lone bounty hunter.

"I hope you're right," she said in a defeated voice, "though he's going to have to be pretty extraordinary to take down that thing out there."

* * *

Spencer followed the river north as it snaked its way through the vast pine forests of the northern Duchy. The powerful strides of his zebra-wolf gobbled up the macadam road leading toward the village and by mid-afternoon, he glimpsed thin strands of chimney smoke and the red shingle rooftops marking the location of his destination.

The river at this point stretched round to dissect his path, and on the banks next to the bridge that led into the village, stood a lumber mill. In the front yard two people were sawing through a log. One of them, a stern looking woman with dark rings under her eyes, stopped what she was doing and went over to him.

Spencer dismounted his zebra-wolf and nodded politely to the woman. "Good afternoon, ma'am. This is Fellwick, I take it?"

"You the bounty hunter?" the woman asked brusquely.

"That's right ma'am. My name's Spencer."

He put out his hand in greeting. The woman hesitated and then took it in her own.

"Kaseeda," she said, introducing herself. "I better take you into the village."

"Thank you," replied Spencer.

Kaseeda looked over at the young man she had been working with. He kept his distance, eyeing the newcomer warily. "I won't be long, Micah."

With that, she and Spencer walked into Fellwick in silence. It was a pleasant enough little place, with quaint, picturesque houses and a square patch of grass dotted with flowers in its center. The tranquil scene was marred by the fact that not another living soul was out on the streets and many of the windows of the houses had bars covering them, as well as that, metal grill gates were fitted over the doors. Spencer could almost taste the tension that hung in the air. It radiated off Kaseeda in spades.

"Is there someplace I can stable my mount please?" Spencer asked, breaking the heavy silence. "I'd like to freshen up and get something to eat too. It's been a long ride."

"Lance and his husband Garv run the tavern," Kaseeda said without looking at him. "It's just at the end of the main street here. You go and get settled in. I'll tell the burgomaster and our healer you're here. The three of us are the Elders of the village. We'll come and talk to you in an hour's time. That all right with you?"

"That is perfect ma'am," replied Spencer. "Thanks."

Without a word, Kaseeda walked away leaving him to make his own way to the tavern. He received a slightly warmer greeting than the one he had gotten from Kaseeda, but he saw the same haunted look in the eyes of the innkeepers, and he was shown up to one of the rooms in grim silence.

Once he was alone in the room, he stripped out of his riding leathers and took out the small amber Cleansing Stone from his backpack. Holding it to his bare chest, he pressed down on it with his hands and it began to glow with a bright golden light that quickly enveloped his body. The enchantment worked into the stone cleaned his skin and hair, leaving his body with a fresh vanilla smell and his spirits restored and revitalized. Next he took out a thin strand of Yeander wood and started chewing on it. Its special sap kept his teeth strong and white, freshening his breath in the process. Finally, he changed into a clean white tunic and a pair of dark burgundy breeches, and headed downstairs again.

The meal the tavern provided was simple but hearty, and they did a half decent pomegranate wine, so Spencer was feeling quite content as he sat sleepy-eyed in the padded armchair next to the crackling fire in the common room. He noted that the tavern was completely empty at a time of day when people would be coming in after a long day's toil. When the clock on the mantelpiece struck five, Kaseeda and a yellow furred Dinorep entered the tavern and walked over to him. Spencer got to his feet to greet them.

"Burgomaster Brindle sends his apologies that he cannot attend tonight," the Dinorep said, bowing his head in greeting. "He is . . . not well. The strain of our recent troubles has been too much for him. I am Laerdron, the village healer. Kaseeda, you've already met. She owns the lumber mill. Your name is Spencer, I believe?"

"That's right. You folks have one big problem and no mistake. You better tell me the whole story and let's see what we can do about it."

They sat down, and Garv brought them over a tray of fresh drinks. When he was gone, Spencer asked; "So, when did this all start?"

"Almost a year ago," Kaseeda said. "It all began when Lavidia Oscillia came back to the village from her latest trade mission. She worked for me as my business agent, travelling over the border to connect us with new trading partners for the timber we produce. She was very good at her job and had just established a lucrative contract with the settlement of Rorikstead in Skyrim Province. The letters she sent to us when she was out there were full of excitement about the new deal, but when she arrived home her mood was very odd. She was deathly pale and uncommunicative. I thought maybe the deal had gone sour, but she'd concluded everything successfully. Something was definitely bothering her, though. When I asked her what was wrong she merely said she was feeling a little under the weather. When we'd completed the discussion of the details that night she went straight home without staying to celebrate. I thought nothing of it, but the next morning she, her husband, and their little daughter were all found dead in their home. From the look of them it seemed they had been savaged by a wild animal. It sent shock waves through the village and absolutely baffled everyone. After that more killings started and then the Chain Devil was spotted around the village at night, but never clearly. The killings always happen at night."

"From then on the Chain Devil has been able to enter our homes at will and kill indiscriminately," Laerdron said, picking up the story. "No matter how we barricade up the doors and windows, he always finds a way in."

Spencer nodded thoughtfully. "How much do you know about Chain Devils?"

"Precious little," replied Laerdron in a glum tone. "I found reference in the temple archives to a similar creature terrorizing one of the Merchant Towns further south about three hundred years ago. They called it a Chain Devil and that's a suitable description if you saw him."

"It is," Spencer said, "Chain Devils are cruel and sadistic monsters that reside in the Nine Hells."

Laerdron gave him a perplexed look. "The Nine Hells? But surely they're just a myth, a story to frighten the superstitious?"

Icy fingers brushed against Spencer's heart as he remembered things he'd tried so hard to forget. "They're real all right," he said in a noncommittal voice, "but you don't want to visit them, believe me."

"But you know how to kill this thing?" Kaseeda cut in, anxious to get to the crux of the matter. "We have no idea what to do next. We tried forging a weapon from Eternium. Our blacksmith, Yalt, had a vision from the god Hephaestus that he had to make a battleaxe that would defeat the Devil, but that was a disaster. I barely survived with my life. The rest of the hunting party I was with that attacked the monster were not so lucky."

"The Devil probably sent him the vision. It's an old trick they like to use to give you hope and make you attack so they can enjoy your suffering before going in for the kill. Laser blasts can hurt a Devil, but not do much else and only a weapon from another plane of existence can kill a thing like that." He eased back in his chair. "Did the archives say if that town managed to defeat their Devil?"

Laerdron shook his head. "No. The townsfolk got sick of the killings and fled, burning the town to the ground before they went."

"A sound plan under the circumstances," Spencer replied. "Why don't you do the same? Why don't you just leave?"

"Some of the villagers tried in the early days," replied Kaseeda. "A group of them set off to find a new place to live. We heard their screams in the night and found . . . pieces of them floating in the river in the days that followed. Since then, no-one has dared try again. We are too scared to leave and terrified of staying. Nobody knows who's going to be next."

"You certainly have a problem," Spencer said. "I'm guessing the Chain Devil won't stop until he kills as many people as possible. He might even wipe out the whole village."

Kaseeda and Laerdron exchanged looks and a chill went through both of them. The healer shook his head in dismay. "What I don't understand is how the Chain Devil can enter our homes so easily. We have used magic charms and wards as well, but all to no avail."

"I suspect you can thank your friend Lavidia for that," said Spencer. "A Chain Devil can alter his body and become like smoke, that's how he enters your homes so easily. For that spell to work though, an inhabitant at the settlement the Devil targets has to first willingly invite them into the village. My guess is the Chain Devil caught your agent on the road and coerced her into inviting him into Fellwick. When she did that he killed her and her family that same night to stop them revealing too much about him."

Laerdron looked appalled. "Lavidia brought this fiend into our village? But she was our friend. I can't believe she would do such a thing!"

Kaseeda's face clouded with rage. "She betrayed us! She betrayed us all!"

"Don't be too hard on her," Spencer said quickly. "The Chain Devil would have threatened to do terrible things to her and her family. He would have promised to spare her life and chances are she had no idea that he intended to harvest the souls of the people here."

"Harvest our souls?" Kaseeda said in a shocked voice.

Spencer gave them a bleak look. "The Chain Devil doesn't just kill for fun. He has a far more sinister purpose behind what he does. Every person he murders he takes their soul as well, and absorbs it into his body. When he's got as many as he needs, he'll go back to the Nine Hells and offer them to one of the Satanic Monarchs who govern there. In exchange for the souls offered, the Monarch will transform him into an Archdevil and he'll be given his own kingdom to rule over in one of the Hells. This is all a Chain Devil lives for, to become a powerful leader and to dominate the other abominations that live in the Hells. We're lucky that there are very few Chains Devils who possess the ability to cross over into the Material Plane or Hyperborea would be overrun by wannabe Archdevils."

Kaseeda froze in place as his words sunk in. For a moment she couldn't speak, and Laerdron shot her an anxious look. She searched the bounty hunter's earnest face, trying to find any sign at all that he was making this up. "What happens to those souls that are sold to one of these Satanic Monarchs?"

Spencer hesitated before replying. "They become slaves to their darkest desires down there. Most of them are transformed into demons, or devils, or other kinds of infernal aberrations. Some will even become other Chain Devils."

Kaseeda nodded and said nothing more. The bounty hunter spoke with a conviction that made it all sound undeniably true. She wanted so badly for him to be lying, but her gut was telling her otherwise.

"I'm sorry to have to tell you this," Spencer replied. "I'm guessing you've lost someone close to you?"

"Kaseeda's son was a recent victim of the Devil, when we tried using the blacksmith's weapon," began Laerdron. "He followed the hunting party without them knowing and must have been caught by the Devil when everything went wrong."

Spencer looked genuinely sympathetic. "I'm sorry for your loss."

"Thank you," Kaseeda said, taken off-guard by his compassion. "But we have to focus on the matter at hand, please. We need to kill the Devil at all costs." Kaseeda realized how sharp and abrupt she was being and felt a little bad inside. He seemed to know what he was talking about, and she was beginning to trust him despite her dislike for bounty hunters, but, she'd also trusted Yalt. He had been certain his way would work, that he'd be able to destroy the Chain Devil and it had ended in disaster. If she had spoken out about how risky their plan was, the hunting party might still be alive and Abeo too. She would not bring herself to believe that Spencer could do any better. She did have to concede that he lacked the arrogance and swagger she had seen in other hired guns and seemed to be genuinely interested in helping them, but that didn't mean he was able to end their nightmare.

"If we kill the Chain Devil before he leaves this plane of existence those souls he's harvested will go to their proper dimensions allotted to them in the Afterlife. It won't bring your loved ones back, but at least they won't be trapped in the Nine Hells," Spencer explained. "It's all I can do, I'm afraid."

Laerdron perked up at this information. "That's something at least, and you do really know how to kill the Chain Devil don't you?"

Spencer nodded slowly, and averted his gaze for just a fraction of a second. "I know how to kill the Chain Devil," he said, an odd inflection in his voice. "It won't be easy, I warn you. Like I say, we need a special kind of weapon, something made of Warpmetal. It's an ore infused with ancient magic and anything made of it can destroy the Chain Devil with a single blow. I know of a trident forged from the stuff but I'll need some help to obtain it. Are there any spell casters living in the village?"

"The burgomaster was a great magician back in his day," Laerdron replied thoughtfully, "it was he who originally put in place the defensive wards around the village, but he is well past his prime now, I'm afraid. I don't think in his current state he'd be able to be of any help to anyone."

"That only leaves our priest," Kaseeda said without much hope. "When he's sober, which isn't very often, he performs regeneration spells by tapping into the divine power of Yahoonda the Elk Goddess to make the trees that we cut down for the mill grow back faster."

"That's not much good to us," Spencer said. "We'll need to call in help from the outside."

Both Kaseeda and Laerdron looked at him in alarm. "How long will that take?" exclaimed Kaseeda. "We've already waited months for the county sheriff at the garrison to get off his backside and send you!"

Spencer sipped at his wine and gave them both a wry smile. "Don't worry. The help we need is just on the doorstep."

* * *

"There's one thing I still don't understand," Kaseeda said as she wafted the smudge stick of sage around the circle of protection they were both standing in. "If the Chain Devil is so in need of our souls why is he taking so long about it? Why does he kill one person one night and then a whole family the next? And why are there random gaps between the killings? Sometimes he takes several victims in one night, and other times he'll only kill one person in a week, and there have been whole periods when he doesn't trouble us at all."

"A Chain Devil likes to play with his food," Spencer replied sardonically as he lit the purple candles that he'd set out all round the edge of the circle. He paused in what he was doing and gave Kaseeda an apologetic look. "Sorry, that was insensitive of me. What I mean to say is, devils revel in causing fear and suffering. He could collect all the souls he needs in maybe two or three night if he so chooses, but where's the fun in that? He likes to savor your fear and the agony of not knowing when your time will come. When he takes a victim's soul it's much more satisfying."

Kaseeda was repulsed at the idea. Since she had learned that Abeo could suffer a fate worse than death, she had been beside herself with worry and it became more important than ever to destroy the Chain Devil before he departed their world. Matters had not been helped by the fact that the very next day Spencer had commandeered a room in Laerdron's workshop and had begun concocting some kind of potion which the healer and half the village had to go out and scour the countryside for ingredients. The villagers were baffled, but the activity kept their minds off the coming of the night and the predations of the Chain Devil, and they returned with large quantities of bruise weed, fadeleaf flowers, sungrass, mage royal blooms, and groomcap mushrooms as requested.

Once he had all he needed, Spencer then spent the next four days locked away to work on the mystery concoction, speaking to no-one and having his meals left outside the door, leaving Kaseeda and the rest of the village with an agonizing wait on their hands. When he finally did emerge with his bizarrely colored brew and announced he would be going into the forest that evening to make contact with this mysterious spell caster, Kaseeda had insisted she accompany him.

Now here they were stood in a small clearing just outside of Fellwick, where Spencer had formed the circle of protection. It had been late in the day when they set out and the shadows were lengthening as night closed in. Kaseeda was growing uncomfortable, gripping tightly onto the laser rifle she carried. She half expected the Chain Devil to jump out on them at any moment.

He finished lighting the candles and nodded to her. "There, ma'am, now we're ready. We might have a long wait on our hands." He took out the small flask from his travel bag, along with a spare cup, and unscrewed the lid. "You want some coffee?"

"Sure," Kaseeda said and then shook her head in bemusement. "You know, I really can't figure you out. You're not like any bounty hunter I ever met before."

Spencer cocked an eyebrow as he poured them each a cup of coffee. "You meet many bounty hunters all the way out here?"

She shook her head. "Not in Fellwick, but the place where I grew up. Rivet City was crawling with them, not to mention mercenaries, pirates and every other cutthroat imaginable. You learned pretty quick not to trust them."

"You grew up in Rivet City?" Spencer said in surprise. "That's one mean place."

"Believe me, it wasn't by choice," Kaseeda replied. "My parents were killed in the Ogre Wars when I was fourteen years old. I got swept along with the refugees who headed south to escape the fighting. I ended up in Rivet."

Spencer shook his head. "That's a tough break. I wouldn't wish that dump on my worse enemy."

"Tell me about it. I'd have died in that cesspit if I hadn't met Mach. He was scraping a living as a vendor in the market, but most of his earnings went into the pockets of the local protection racket. Still, he was managing to put enough by to break out of that place. He had this dream to set up a lumber mill in a quiet little place like Fellwick."

"Why a lumber mill?" Spencer asked.

"Like me, Mach hadn't ended up in Rivet City by choice," replied Kaseeda. "His pa had owned a successful lumber mill out east, when Mach was a lad, but the Great Downturn hit them hard and the mill got repossessed. It broke the old man's heart and he drank himself to death. His ma died soon after and his two brothers drifted away to look for work. Mach finally went too and ended up in Rivet. It was the only place to make money back then, and he dreamed of starting his own place one day, to try and honor his pa's memory. As for me, I was working in one of the saloons at that time. It was a step up from begging, and we just clicked. I'd saved some money too and together we quit the city and headed to the Sharkman Duchy. Fellwick was only a cluster of cottages back then. We established the lumber mill and the village grew wealthy off it. After Mach died of the Dream Fever when Abeo was three, I swore to keep his vision alive. That's why I'll be damned if I'm going to be driven off by this monster or anyone else for that matter."

Spencer nodded thoughtfully. "What about Abeo, was he going to carry on the business?"

"On no," Kaseeda shook her head. "Abeo at heart is a . . . was a bard. He had a wonderful talent. He and Lyra, the burgomaster's daughter, used to perform together, she singing the songs he wrote while he played the lute. They were wonderful. When Abeo reached eighteen, he wanted to go to and study the craft at the Bard's College in Solitude. It was his greatest dream and I was so proud when he was accepted for the next term. That dream is not going to happen now. I lost my husband and now my son in this place. Maybe the gods are trying to tell me something."

"Forget the gods, you're very brave no matter what," Spencer said with feeling. "All of you are brave to stay here."

Kaseeda was surprised by the compliment and wasn't sure how to respond. She suddenly realized she'd told him almost everything about herself but barely knew anything about him in return. "What about you? What's your story? Where are you from? Do you have family?"

Spencer shrugged. "I'm from nowhere really. I had a family once. I had friends too, if you can call them that, but I walked away a long time ago."

"It's hard making it when you're alone," Kaseeda replied. "Don't you ever want to go back to them?"

Spencer's expression darkened. "I'll not go back. There's nothing left for me there."

When he said nothing more, a gloomy silence began to spread between them. The mood started to get to Kaseeda down and she decided to try another topic of conversation. "Who exactly is this spell caster we're going to meet? And why do you need that weird potion and the circle of protection?"

"You'll see," Spencer said, looking out into the encroaching dark. He swallowed down the last of the coffee and put the flask away. Next, he put a saucer he had borrowed from the tavern outside the circle and poured some of the pungent multi-colored liquid he'd concocted into it. Now he stood back to wait. "You can go back to the village if you want," he added. "There's still time. This spell caster . . . if they decide to show up, can be unpredictable. I can't guarantee your safety. I can handle this alone."

Kaseeda shook her head. "I'm staying with you. I know the risks. I'd rather die trying to save my village than wait around for the Chain Devil to take me in my bed."

"That's fair enough, ma'am," Spencer said.

The night was deepening now and the wind had picked up, rustling through the trees. Above, stars glittered coldly in the sky, and more than once Kaseeda thought she heard the distant clank of chains. Spencer didn't seem to hear it. His eyes were fixed on the dark undergrowth in front of them.

Almost an hour passed with nothing happening, and Kaseeda's joints were starting to become stiff. All of this seemed to be a massive waste of time and she was just about to ask Spencer how much longer this was going to take, when he suddenly pointed to a patch of jasmine bushes. "There," he whispered, "there's one coming now. Stay real quiet and don't make any sudden movements."

Kaseeda followed his line of sight and spotted a shape moving through the undergrowth. On reflex, she nearly opened fire, thinking it was the Devil, but whatever was out there was far too small and graceful. She watched in tense silence as the creature slowly stepped into the candlelight cast by the protective circle.

To Kaseeda's complete bafflement the spell caster turned out to be a cat, but no cat she'd ever seen before. Long and sleek with dark blue fur, the animals' pointed ears were abnormally large and with tips that were snow white. Wide eyes of glowing argent shone out of a narrow face that had an expression of almost humanoid intelligence.

The cat paused a few feet away from the circle and watched them for the longest of time, and then, very slowly, it padded closer to the saucer of liquid. After taking a few experimental sniffs of the concoction, a long bright purple tongue darted from its mouth as it began eagerly lapping it up.

"What is that?" Kaseeda asked in a hushed voice.

"They're called Glameows. They are magical nature spirits. They can be dangerous and very unpredictable, that's why I put a circle in place around us," Spencer said as he watched the strange animal.

"I've lived and worked in these woods for years and I've never seen anything like that before."

"Glameows are very elusive and secretive. Most of the time, they don't even live on this plane of existence. They stay hidden from most other folks, but they are tempted out of seclusion by offerings of rainbow nectar. They love the stuff, and they will offer magical favors to those who are willing to give them nectar in exchange."

They watched as the cat finished the nectar. It looked up at Spencer and Kaseeda with a contented smile on its strangely human-like lips. Spencer bowed his head to the creature, and, as Kaseeda watched, he began communicating with the Glameow through a series of slow blinks and some kind of sign language, which the creature responded to with meows, nods, and waving motions with its front paws.

After several minutes of this strange exchange, Spencer turned to Kaseeda and smiled in relief. "It's all settled. Zasper, here, will open a Moon Path for us."

Kaseeda stared at him. "A Moon Path? What is that?"

"A path to the moon," Spencer replied. "That's where we'll find the trident."

Kaseeda had a million and one questions, but she was prevented from asking any by the weird crooning noise that Zasper the Glameow began to make. A silvery glow started to form just outside in the center of the circle of protection. It grew brighter and brighter and elongated upwards forming a curved bridge that terminated at a spot in mid-air. At the end of the Moon Path a swirling portal of silver light appeared.

"We better get going," Spencer said. "The Moon Path will only stay active for just over an hour before it dissipates. Zasper has kindly agreed to wait and guard the path until we get back."

He started walking up the path, only stopping when he realized Kaseeda wasn't following him. "What's wrong? Do you want to stay here?"

Kaseeda looked at the strange magic cat and then back at the path. "No, I'll come with you. I've always wanted to visit the moon." She drawled sarcastically.

"Great," Spencer was grinning like an excited schoolboy. "Come on, let's get going."

With a sigh, Kaseeda started up the path. Surely, she thought to herself, things could not get any stranger.

* * *

Zasper let out a huge yawn and stretched out on the ground at the foot of the Moon Path. Now that he'd had his fill of the delicious rainbow nectar all he wanted to do was climb up a tree and go to sleep in the branches. He denied himself that pleasure though. That agreeable young fellow had been most insistent that he stay and watch the Moon Path, in case there was any trouble. Zasper couldn't care less, but it had been a long time since anyone had made him such a generous offering and in the unlikely event he and his stern lady friend came back alive they might give him some more. As Zasper savored the thought, he became even sleepier, and his eyelids grew heavy. Maybe he would have a little snooze, just for a few minutes. It wouldn't do any harm.

His nose suddenly twitched as he caught the stench of devil in the air. Instantly, Zasper sprang up just as a long spiked chain lashed out from the undergrowth to swat at him. The Glameow was too quick to be hit. He bolted at lightning speed for the cover of the trees. When he glanced back, he saw the hulking shape of a Chain Devil emerge and start stomping up the Moon Path.

Zasper made no move to stop the monster. Though he possessed magic that was a match for any devil, he might get hurt if he got into a fight and that simply wouldn't do. He felt a little bad about leaving the humans to their fate, but with a bit of luck someone else might come along to give him more nectar.

* * *

Kaseeda stepped through the portal and found she was standing on an outcrop of grey rock. Beneath her was on a vast plain of glittering snow. Narrow rills of bruise colored water laced the snowfield and dotting the landscape were dozens of hulking bipedal beasts. They were covered with thick white fur and each had a single curving horn sprouting from the center of their foreheads. All of them were encased in ice that glittered beneath the pearl gray sky above them.

Kaseeda stared at the scene in horrified fascination. It was a far cry from the russet colored and barren moon she'd seen in the night sky. "I never expected the moon to look like this," she said, her breathing steaming as she spoke.

"This is just one aspect of the moon," Spencer said. "The moon, like Hyperborea and everywhere else is divided into frequencies, different layers of existence. I asked Zasper to open the bridge into the specific layer where we'll find the trident. We'd best get moving. We don't have much time."

Kaseeda wasn't thrilled by the prospect but it was too late to turn back now. She cast a dread filled look at the frozen monsters in front of them. They studded the plain like statues, their dreadful claws reaching up to the sky as if trying to pull down the heavens. "What are those things?"

"They are the Gnoph-keh," said Spencer. "Savage beasts that revel in slaughter and destruction. They were once confined to this frequency but figured out a way to travel different realities and brought destruction and chaos to other realms and peoples. They raged unchecked throughout the Omniverse until they finally attacked a colony belonging to the Mi-Go, one of the Elder Races who dwell in the Chakra Between. Furious, the Mi-Go used their magic-tech to send all the Gnoph-keh back to the moon and placed an enchantment of frozen sleep over them, putting them into hibernation for all time."

Kaseeda grimaced. Their bestial faces were locked in expressions of pure rage and hatred. She got the feeling they could break out of their icy cages at any moment. "They still look wide awake to me and pretty angry."

"Don't worry, they can't harm us," replied Spencer, though there was an uneasy look in his eyes as he stared at them. "Come on, we're wasting time."

To her great discomfort, he led her down the outcropping and cut a path straight between the frozen forms of the Gnoph-keh. "How far away is this trident?"

Spencer paused and took out a folded piece of parchment from his pocket. He opened it out and Kaseeda saw a crude map drawn on the paper. "I asked Zasper to open the portal not far from its location. The map says its' straight ahead."

A thought suddenly occurred to her that she should have considered before. "Wait a minute Spencer. Did you go through all of this the last time? Why didn't you hold onto the trident after you killed the last Chain Devil you fought?"

Spencer didn't answer straightaway. Kaseeda frowned. "You did kill the Chain Devil?"

There was an uncomfortable silence. "I tried to," Spencer replied at last. "But I didn't have the knowledge that I do now. Don't worry though. This time I won't fail."

Kaseeda couldn't believe what she was hearing. "But you said . . . the garrison in their letter told us you'd fought one of these monsters before!"

"I have," Spencer said defensively. "It was two years ago now. A Chain Devil had targeted a Breloom monastery out in the Orange Islands. I was hunting down a bounty in the region and came upon them. They were too far away from anywhere that could send help, and the monks who tried to escape never made it. There were only a handful of Brelooms left, living in utter terror. Each night the Devil would come and kill one of their number, and, like you, they were at the limit of their endurance. I couldn't leave them to face their fate alone so I offered to drive the Chain Devil away or kill him. I waited that night in the great hall and the Chain Devil slipped through the keyhole in smoke form. He became solid in front of me and I battled him in a straight fight." Spencer paused and shook his head. "I didn't have a chance and the Devil knew that. He took me down in seconds and knocked me unconscious. When I came too the bodies of the remaining Brelooms were laid out around me and the Devil was gone. For a long while I just sat there. I couldn't figure out why he had let me live, but I think he wanted me to see his handiwork and to rub my failure in my face. That's when I swore I'd avenge their deaths somehow. I learnt all I could about them and when I heard that your village was being attacked, I had to come. I can't save the Brelooms' souls, but now I can try and save the souls of your family and friends."

"We thought you were an expert!" Kaseeda raged, becoming more incensed as he related his story. "We trusted you and you stand no more chance than we do! I knew it! I just knew we couldn't trust a good for nothing bounty hunter! You're even worse that that! You're a deluded fool on a crusade to clear your conscience!"

Spencer was taken aback by her furious response. She saw the raw hurt in his eyes and he lowered his head, the same way Abeo did whenever she scolded him for something.

"I only want to help, ma'am," he said in a quiet voice. Without another word he carried on trudging across the snowfield.

Kaseeda instantly regretted her harsh words. "Spencer," she called out as she followed him. "Spencer, wait."

He paused and watched her as she came after him. "I'm sorry," she said in a weary voice. "I should never have yelled at you like that. You want to help us and I'm being ungrateful."

Spencer was mollified by her apology and nodded. "It doesn't matter. I know the pressure you and the villagers are under. Forget it."

"It does matter," Kaseeda replied. "It's just that so many of my friends, so many of the people I know and cared about, Lavidia, Yalt, Abeo my son," she stopped and swallowed hard, "I can't bear the thought that his soul could be trapped, that he could become like the thing that killed him."

Spencer gave her a steady look. "You have my word I'll do all I can to save him and the others. The best way of doing that is retrieving the trident. Let's just forget this and move on. Agreed?"

Kaseeda nodded and they carried on in silence. Soon they were deep amongst the frozen Gnoph-keh and a chill wind whistled around their huge, monstrous bodies. A thin dank mist had appeared, wrapping around their legs. Kaseeda was on edge and a couple of times she thought she saw a dark figure flitting across the plain, but she put it down to her imagination. As the snowfield dipped into a gradual decline, she spotted several smaller shapes also frozen in rough blocks of ice. They were ragged, withered humanoids in various states of decay. They seemed to have been frozen by the same magic that held the Gnoph-kehs in place.

Kaseeda's skin crawled as she looked at the frozen cadavers. "Who are they?"

"I don't know," Spencer said. "The occultist who told me about this place didn't say a word about anything else trapped here."

Kaseeda pretended that she didn't think they were watching them, and carried on alongside Spencer. As she drew close to one, there was the sound of cracking ice as one of the creatures smashed through its block and grabbed Kaseeda by the wrist.

She let out a startled cry. Spencer rushed to her side. Drawing his blaster, he used the butt to hammer down on the creature's hand. It loosened its grip and Spencer and Kaseeda retreated as the creature broke free from the ice completely and lurched towards them.

Kaseeda trained her laser rifle and opened fire, blasting its chest apart. The living corpse toppled backwards. The splintering of ice came from all round as more of the monsters broke free of their frozen prisons.

Both Kaseeda and Spencer opened fire, trying to cut down the monstrosities. They ran along the narrow path as the horrors pursued them in jerking lumbering steps, and darted behind a nearby snowbank. The foul creatures came on with slow determination.

"What are they?" exclaimed Kaseeda.

"Ice Zombies!" growled Spencer. "Whatever you do, keep shooting!"

"My rifle's power crystal is running low," Kaseeda said, as she shot another one through the head. "We're going to be overwhelmed at any moment!"

Spencer looked around in desperation and then spotted something that could help them. He focused on the Gnoph-keh closest to their position and waited until the Ice Zombies were passing directly beneath it. "Shoot at the Gnoph-keh's legs! Give it everything you've got!"

Kaseeda did as she was instructed and both of them poured laser fire into the huge monster. It began to glow white hot and with a tremendous crash the beast toppled forward crushing most of the Ice Zombies in the process. The few not caught in the collapse staggered around in confusion. Spencer and Kaseeda were able to pick them off with ease.

"Sorry about that, ma'am," Spencer said when it was safe again. "I was expecting this to be an easy trek."

"Don't worry about it," Kaseeda drawled. "I'm beginning to learn that nothing is ever easy when you're around."

Spencer let out a soft chuckle and holstered his weapon. Excitement over, they carried on with their journey.

To Kaseeda's relief, they soon left the Gnoph-keh graveyard behind them. The land became more hilly and rugged, and after a while Kaseeda spotted a cluster of truncated cone shaped buildings. The structures looked very ancient and primitive, made of roughly carved blocks of granite. "Is this some kind of settlement?"

"It is what's left of the city of the people who lived here centuries ago. They ruled this frequency of the moon until the Gnoph-keh arrived and wiped them all out," Spencer said.

"What were these people called?"

"No-one remembers," Spencer said. He scanned the landscape and pointed to the low mound that sat in the center of the ruined city. "That's where we're going."

Kaseeda stared at the low mound he was pointing to. There was a dome shaped building sitting atop of it with a single rectangular opening that served as a doorway.

"The trident is there, in the shrine," Spencer said.

They headed up the mound to the shrine and stepped inside. It was a single rough room with a wide hole in the ceiling leaving the room open to the sky. In its center was some kind of altar made of a glassy purple black material Kaseeda couldn't identify. She took a look around and saw that every inch of the rough stone walls were etched with hundreds of intricate engravings. The engravings depicted images of gruesome, toad-like beings engaged in all manner of unspeakable depravities. She could only look for so long before she started to feel queasy, and had to turn away from the disturbing images.

"The people who once lived here worshiped the Watcher In The Sea," Spencer said, his voice laced with contempt. "Hoping to win his favor, they performed terrible acts of devotion that grew more and more horrific as time went on. In the end, even the Watcher became so disgusted by what they were doing that he sent the Gnoph-keh to wipe them out."

Kaseeda quickly moved away from the walls and into the center of the room, as if out of fear of being somehow contaminated by the dead peoples' evil. Her eyes fixed on the altar, the only other thing of interest in the shrine. "I don't see this weapon you keep talking about. Are you sure this is the right place?"

Spencer came over to join her, a strange look on his face. "This is the right place, all right."

Kaseeda frowned. "Well, where is it then?"

"If we are to receive the trident from the Watcher we need to offer something in return," Spencer replied. "Please go and stand by the doorway. No matter what happens, stay there."

Kaseeda was baffled but complied. Spencer drew the sleek dagger that hung from his belt and stretched out his free hand over the altar. He began muttering under his breath and Kaseeda's eyes widened when he suddenly slashed the palm of his open hand with the weapon.

"What are you doing?" Kaseeda exclaimed.

Spencer didn't answer her, and as the first drops of his blood dripped onto the altar it began to ripple and pulsate as it shifted from a solid object into a viscous oozing substance. A bloated tendril suddenly shot up from the altar and wrapped around the wrist of Spencer's bleeding hand, yanking it down until it completely disappeared into the seething mass.

"Spencer!" she screamed, rushing forward to pull him free.

Spencer made a warning gesture with his dagger. "Don't touch me!" he snarled through gritted teeth.

Unable to intercede, Kaseeda watched as the altar began to swell, losing the last of its rigid shape and becoming almost spherical. It was glowing with a sickly green light that filled the shrine. Spencer's whole body shuddered and he screamed in pain. Kaseeda wanted to grab him, but she was frozen with terror. She watched helplessly as he twisted and almost fell to his knees. The altar grew larger and larger, bubbling and heaving, and she feared it was going to swallow him whole and then her afterwards. His face was twisting in agony and tears ran down his face as he screamed himself hoarse. Then, with brusque abruptness, the altar released his hand and shifted back into its original solid form. Kaseeda heard a cruel, watery chuckle from somewhere above them that didn't sound like it had been made by human vocal chords. It was followed by a bright flash of light. She blinked in surprise and now she saw that an ornately looking trident made of gleaming green metal was resting on the top of the altar.

Spencer, his face grey and haggard, was now stood a few feet away from the altar, staring down at the hand that had been inside it. The cut he'd made into his palm had completely vanished, but a web of strange black scars covered the whole hand.

Kaseeda stared at him open-mouthed. "Spencer, are you all right?" she gasped. "That thing – "

"The Watcher is satisfied with my offering," he said, still staring at his hand.

"Spencer?" Kaseeda pressed him. "What the hell just happened?"

"The Watcher cares little for mortals," Spencer said in a voice dripping with bitterness. He stopped staring at his affected hand and walked back to the altar. "But he utterly hates Devils and readily offers up weapons to destroy them when offered something suitable in return." Spencer reached out and picked up the trident, hefting it and testing the weight. "This will do the job very nicely. Its very touch is lethal to a creature like the Chain Devil. We've got the means to fight it now and release the souls he's got trapped."

Without another word, Spencer strode out of the shrine. Kaseeda swiftly followed him, glad to be out of this vile place. Though bitingly cold outside, it was a welcome relief from the stuffy and noisome confines of the shrine. Kaseeda took deep breathes of the icy air as they descended the mound and she started to feel better. Spencer was still a ghastly shade of gray, but he didn't seem otherwise affected by his experience. He examined the elegant trident more closely in the pale light and gave an appreciative nod.

"Its exquisite workmanship, I'll say that for him," he concluded, raising the weapon as if to hurl it. "You know, Kaseeda, I have a feeling all our problems are going to be over real soon."

With frightening speed, a ball of black smoke darted towards them and a chain shot out of it, wrapping around the trident. Spencer let out a cry of surprise and tumbled to the ground as his new weapon was wrenched clean from his hands.

Kaseeda raised her laser rifle as the Chain Devil took solid form. Now, for the first time since all of this began, she saw him properly in the light. He was a tall and muscular humanoid with glistening red skin that looked like it had been boiled. A tattered black cloak hung from his broad shoulders and curling ram like horns jutted from above a narrow, triangular face with sharp cruel features. Dozens of chains, writhing like living snakes, emerged from his body, and his large powerful legs were covered in thick brown fur that ended in black cloven hooves. Worse of all was the Chain Devil's broad naked torso. It was studded with dozens of tiny glowing faces, their expressions wracked with pain and mouthing silent cries for help.

With a shock, Kaseeda saw Abeo's face amongst them. The Chain Devil noticed her distress and let out a harsh mocking laugh. He raised the trident in his chain and waved it tauntingly at her.

Fueled with anger, Kaseeda opened fire on the Chain Devil but he shifted into oily black smoke again. He zipped to one side and suddenly materialized a few feet away from her, lashing out with one of his chains.

She dodged the strike just as Spencer scrambled to his feet, blaster pistol drawn. He opened fire, attracting the Chain Devil's attention.

"The trident!" he yelled. "Grab the trident!"

Kaseeda rushed to seize it from the curled chain, but the Devil shifted form again and reappeared just behind her. She turned as he smacked her hard across her chest, flinging her across the snow. She hit the ground with a heavy thud and lay winded on the ground. The Chain Devil strolled towards her, meaning to impale her on one of his spiked chains. The chain reared up like a viper and shot down towards her heart. Kaseeda managed to roll out of the way just as the spike went straight into the snow and the stony ground beneath. It went so deep the Devil had to really struggle to pull it free again.

As he was doing so, Spencer kept firing his blaster at the monster to distract him from Kaseeda, and then took out a small sonic grenade from one of the pouches on his belt. "Get clear!" he shouted and hurled the grenade at the Chain Devil.

She turned and ran as fast as she could. A few moments later there was powerful shock wave that hurt her eardrums and took her off her feet again. She rolled onto her back and saw that the Chain Devil had also been knocked down by the concussion blast as well. Shaking his gruesome head, the Devil staggered back to his feet, looking confused. He was no longer holding the trident.

"Kaseeda!" Spencer shouted. Before he could do anything to help her, the Chain Devil sent out a chain direct at him. He dodged the strike and opened fire with his blaster. Laser bolts blasted against the monster's skin, but did no real damage. In retaliation, the Chain Devil sent dozens of smaller chains toward him in one go and they lashed out and stabbed at him. Spencer tried to dodge them and soon his face and arms were covered with cuts and slashes. The Chain Devil shot out a longer chain that wrapped around his neck. Spencer dropped his gun and fell to his knees as he clawed wildly at his chain. The Chain Devil launched another spiked chain that mercilessly whipped Spencer across his back and shoulders. The blows drove him onto his chest. The Chain Devil cackled with delight and began dragging him through the snow toward him.

Still on the ground, Kaseeda watched in powerless horror. She had failed again, and now Spencer was going to die like all the rest. Then, she suddenly spotted a glint of green in the white snow a few feet away from her. It was the trident! With renewed energy she lurched to her feet and snatched up the weapon. Without hesitating, she rushed at the Chain Devil as fast as she could, the trident pointed at his chest.

The Chain Devil was so engrossed with enjoying Spencer's suffering he barely noticed her. He turned his fearsome head just at the moment Kaseeda drove the trident into his side with all her strength. A spear of shining white light shot out of the monster and he unleashed a terrible shriek. In heartbeats, his chains became like blackened charcoal and crumbled away. Spencer, now free of the chain around his throat, coughed and spluttered as he sucked in fresh air.

Kaseeda glanced anxiously at him to make sure he was all right, but her attention quickly shifted back to the Chain Devil. More spears of light were shooting out of the monster in all directions as his body swiftly blackened and started to crumble. Now he was disintegrating, the souls trapped in his chest were free, soaring upwards as beings of shining golden light that began to disappear into the sky above. One of them paused and came back toward Kaseeda. She stared up into Abeo's smiling face and felt an overwhelming wave of love and gratitude coming from him. She stared up at her son, wanting to tell him how much she loved him but her throat choked up. All she could do was stare with tear filled eyes. They lingered in that beautiful moment for what seemed like an eternity before he was again shooting upwards to join with the other souls.

As the souls made their escape, the trident crumbled away into dust as well, one last nasty joke by the Watcher. The weapon, like the Chain Devil, blew away on the wind.

Slowly, Kaseeda got to her feet and went over to Spencer. He'd recovered and was watching the Chain Devil's remains drift away. He turned to look at Kaseeda and a silent understanding passed between them.

"Come on," she said, "let's go home."

Arm in arm, they returned to the Moon Path and the now liberated village of Fellwick.


	3. Bitter Pill

Crouched low behind the piles of rotting crates at the back of the warehouse, Spencer held his breath. The security robot he was hiding from had stopped just a few feet away. It swung its flat head in his direction, its lantern eyes glowing red. Spencer peered at it though the narrow gap in the crates, his body tense.

For what seemed like an eternity, the hulking machine stayed motionless, its' gaze on the crates. Eventually, it turned away and starting stomping back toward the far end of the warehouse floor.

The tension in Spencer's shoulders lessened a little, and he moved slowly along on his hands and knees. Emerging from the cover provided by the crates, he peered out again at the length of the warehouse. Much of it was clothed in darkness. There were only two working strip lights hanging from the ceiling, providing a feeble illumination, and much of the space that he could see by the light was filled with garbage, old storage crates, broken pallets, and empty drum barrels. The air was thick and stale.

Spencer regarded the place in distaste. If not for the presence of the security robot, he'd figured his contact in the underworld had supplied him with a false lead. Yet the robot was guarding this dump for a reason. This had to be where the drug laboratory was hidden.

The only problem now was finding it and not getting ripped apart by its huge guardian in the process. He tracked its progress as it headed towards the offices at the other end of the warehouse floor. It stopped and remained motionless, moving its head this way and that. After several minutes, it turned to the left and stomped away into the gloom.

Spencer considered his next move. He hadn't been expecting a robot, and trying to get past it was going to be a serious problem. This wasn't going to be a walk in the park that was for sure.

For a moment he was tempted to sneak back out of the warehouse the way he'd come, and go straight to Neo Scotland Yard. They had the right resources to deal with a threat like this and they'd be able to close down the lab when they found it. Going to them would be the right thing to do, but Spencer hesitated. What if they didn't act on his tip-off straightaway, or worse still, ignore it completely? Police Chief Monkian had already warned him off interfering in investigations. To the jaded official Spencer was nothing more than a nuisance, a drifting bounty hunter, who had no business getting tangled up in Londinium's criminal activities.

Monkian might've had a point, but that hadn't stopped Spencer going ahead and doing it anyway. On Earth he had been a celebrity, enjoying the fame and fortune that offered, but after attaining his dream he had been struck by a keen emptiness, a lack of meaning in his life. More and more he craved excitement and adventure. It devoured him like an addiction until it was impossible to resist. It was this urge that had drawn him to Cult of the Watcher and led to the terrible events that resulted in him falling though the portal that led to Hyperborea. Since arriving here, he had carved himself a career as a bounty hunter hunting fugitives for coin, but he wanted to be more than that. He saw himself as a sort of vigilante, helping people in trouble, and was drawn to situations that fed his craving for danger. Yes, he should go to the police right now with his findings, but that would give him no satisfaction. It had been his need to right a wrong that had first put him on the trail of the drug manufacturers. Now, finally, his quest had brought him here to this squalid warehouse nestled deep in the city's dockland district. He would see this business through to the end, on his own, or die in the attempt.

He straightened up and crept from his hiding place, mindful of keeping to the shadows. He was almost invisible thanks to the specially designed body suit with its jet black layer of stealth lacquer that he wore. His boots were made of the same material and coated with a special polymer that blocked out all sound, allowing him to move silently across the concrete floor. By now, the robot was on the far side of the warehouse out of sight. He carefully picked his away along the racks of shelving and assorted debris toward the cluster of offices at the opposite end of the room.

He could see a light on behind the frosted glass of one of the office doors, and decided to see what was in there first. Peering out from behind the racking, he scouted for the robot. It was standing over by the far wall with its back to him. It seemed to be programmed on a set pattern, remaining motionless at a certain spot for at least thirty seconds before carrying on with its patrol. If he timed it just right, he could run across and slip into the office before it started moving again.

Preparing himself, he counted to three in his head and then sprinted for the door. In the process, he knocked over a stack of old paint tins he hadn't seen that were piled on the floor. Spencer froze and looked over at the robot. The machine turned with surprising quickness and came bounding towards him. Its large metallic feet were pounding out a death sentence on the concrete floor. Panic clenched his heart. Eyes fixed on the oncoming robot he snatched the Lasso Pistol from the gun belt holster around his waist and aimed it at the machine's chest.

The Pistol flared and a long white rope shot out of its nozzle with the speed of a torpedo straight at the oncoming robot, making a circular motion as it cleaved the air. Like the body armor he was wearing, the Lasso Pistol had been designed and built by Spencer's inventor friend Professor Gepple. Unlike a laser weapon, the Pistol produced a highly tactile form of epoxy rope that wrapped round the target leaving them incapacitated. Spencer had wanted a non-lethal method of overpowering his enemies and this had turned out to be the perfect solution. Unlike the Outer Realms of Hyperborea, where he plied his trade, the coalition of states collectively known as the Fertile Kingdoms, of which Londinium was a principal city, were under the benevolent governance of the Thundercats, who had brought peace and stability to the region. The rough and brutal ways of the badlands did not apply here, so Spencer had to be careful how he tackled the drug dealers. If he killed one of them even in self defence, Chief Monkian could very easily pin a murder charge him if so chose and enjoy doing it in the process. So, the Lasso Pistol was a way round this problem.

The rope was created by a chemical reaction inside the barrel of the gun, meaning it possessed an endless supply of ammunition and was strong enough that most people couldn't break free of it once the rope was wrapped round them. Unfortunately for Spencer though, he'd never tried his unique weapon against any kind of opponent before.

The rope hit its target dead on and wrapped round the robot's torso, pinning its arms to its sides. The robot didn't slow down and without missing a beat raised its arms tearing the rope apart effortless.

Terror lanced through Spencer as the robot bore down on him. He scrambled backwards, only narrowly missing the huge metallic hands as they made a grab for his throat. He tried to fire his Lasso Pistol again, but the robot was coming on too fast. It knocked the weapon clean out of his hand before he could jerk it out of the way. A heartbeat later the mechanical man was driving its fist towards the center of his chest.

Spencer dodged the attack with only seconds to spare. If it had hit home he'd have a huge hole in the middle of torso. He rolled across the floor and jumped to his feet. The robot, a lot slower, twisted round and lumbered towards him. Spencer was next to the shelving and clambered up it like a monkey. The robot was on his heels and its hands clanged hard against the metal. The shelving lurched violently, but Spencer managed to hold on. He reached the top of the shelving and hoisted himself up.

Turning round, he faced the robot as it pulled itself up and stood to face him. Spencer backed away slowly, keeping just out of range of the automaton's huge arms. He turned and bolted across the shelving, dodging the huge pieces of machinery littering his path. The shelving stretched back to the shutter door at the far end of the warehouse, and Spencer had no idea what he was going to do when he ran out of floor. He had to put the robot out of action somehow.

Up ahead, he spotted a rusting metal bench press half on, half off, the edge of the shelving. An idea struck him. He ran on until he was parallel to the press and abruptly stopped. The robot's feet were clanging loudly behind him and he turned to face his pursuer. It came at him like a freight train but Spencer held his ground. The robot's eyes flashed brighter and it made to swat him like a fly with one of its massive hands. Tensing his body, Spencer timed it just right, ducking out of the way of the blow and dodging to the left hand side of the shelving. The robot overreached and nearly lost its balance. Before it could straighten up, Spencer rushed forward and pushed at the robot with all his strength, shoving it right off the edge. There was a tremendous crash as it hit the floor. Spencer was panting hard and hoped the fall had been enough to finish it off.

When he looked down, the robot was sprawled on the ground like a landed fish, but it was still moving and slowly it tried to pick itself up. Swearing under his breath, Spencer rammed his shoulder against the bench press and pushed. At first it wouldn't yield, but another gut busting effort on his part finally shoved it free and it went tumbling down on top of the robot. The robot only had time to look up as the press smashed into its torso, crushing it inwards. Sparks erupted from the impact and grey smoke curled upwards from the shattered automaton. It twitched its arms and legs grotesquely for a few moments before going deathly still.

Sweating and shaking, Spencer slumped down onto the hard surface of the shelving in a boneless heap. He pressed his face against the cold metal, closing his eyes and taking in deep breaths. He stayed like that for several minutes, before slowly getting back to his feet again. His shoulder ached abominably and he wanted to curl up into a tight ball and sleep for a week.

Despite his exhaustion he had to keep pressing on. When he felt strong enough, he started climbing down the shelving, relieved to be on solid ground again. He headed towards the office section again, making a point to search the floor for his Lasso Pistol. He found it amongst some rubble. Quickly he scooped it up, relieved to find that it was still in working order and kept it drawn.

Feeling a little bit more secure, he made his way to the door where the light was coming from. He peered through the frosted glass but could see no movement on the other side. Cautiously, he tried the handle. It was unlocked and he stepped into the office.

It was as shabby and derelict as the warehouse floor, with grimy walls and garbage strewn over the floor. A couple of battered desks lay haphazardly in the middle of the office and a single strip light provided a feeble light. Apart from a rusting filing cabinet devoid of its drawers, there was nothing else of any interest in the room. Spencer was just about to leave, when something caught his eye.

Over on the floor by the back wall of the office were two semi circular scuff marks that looked to have been made by the motion of a door swinging outwards. The only problem with that so there was no other door connected to the office other than the one Spencer had walked through. Slipping his gun back into its holster he went over to examine the area of the wall where the marks were. He ran his fingers along it, but could not find anything.

He was about to leave when a grimy calendar hanging nearby suddenly caught his eye. Behind it he spotted a plaque. Curious, he took down the calendar so he could get a better look at the plaque. It was a garish affair of floral patterns with the legend HOME SWEET HOME written on it in an extravagant cursive script. Spencer looked at it and snorted.

"Nothing sweet about this home," he muttered.

On impulse, he touched the plaque and it sank inwards into the wall. There was a click and a secret door swung outwards revealing a passageway behind the correlating section of wall where the scuff marks were. Spencer grinned in surprise.

"Well, thanks for inviting me in," he said to himself and went to investigate.

Beyond the secret door was a dingy passage with a metal door set at the end of it. His reflexes on a razor's edge, Spencer went up to the door and tried the handle. It was unlocked and, drawing the Lasso Pistol again, Spencer opened it. A bright white light made him blink and it took a few moments for his eyes to grow accustomed to the glare. When they had, he found himself looking into a large spotlessly clean room with a tiled floor and stark white walls. An array of stainless steel machinery dominated the room along with a large metal table.

There were no robots or other enemies inside the room so he stepped in and went straight to the table. A large number of clear plastic bags were laid out neatly on the table, containing dozens of small white pills. Anger kindled inside Spencer as he picked up one of the bags and took out one of the pills, holding it between his thumb and finger. It resembled an ordinary Tiphareth tablet but he was certain the ones he'd found here contained a deadly secret.

It had all started six weeks ago. Batches of contaminated Tiphareth had somehow been introduced into the supply chain, mixing in with the unaffected tablets. Tiphareth helped calm the nerves and reduce anxiety, and was regularly used by many people in Londinium, especially the young during exam time. However, these tainted pills heightened aggression, plunged people into suicidal depression, and, in extreme cases, induced heart attacks and comas. Twelve people had already died and more fatalities were inevitable. Panic was spreading across the Fertile Kingdoms, even though it appeared the contaminated Tiphareth was concentrated on Londinium only, and pressure was being placed on drug companies to withdraw the medication altogether until the crisis could be resolved. That didn't look to be anytime soon as the police had no leads on who was behind the manufacture or supply of the contaminated Tiphareth and the list of victims was steadily growing. In fact, Spencer had become involved when the teenage daughter of Professor Gepple, Sanika, had had a serious reaction to one of these contaminated tablets and was now wired into a healing pod fighting for her life. Desperate to get to the source of the trouble, Gepple had turned to Spencer, who had only been too happy to help.

Putting the tablet down, Spencer went and had a look at the machinery that made the pills. It all looked very sophisticated and the process was completely automated. Now he just needed to find those responsible for all of this. As he tried to figure out what his next move should be, he heard a low growl coming from behind him.

He spun round ready with his Lasso Pistol just as some kind of animal lunged at him. His vision was filled with snapping jaws and orange scales as the creature landed straight on his chest, its heavy weight driving him to the floor. Spencer let out a strangled cry, losing hold of his weapon as he went down. The thing on top of him snarled and its fangs bore down on his face. Spencer brought up his hands and made a desperate grab at its thick neck, trying to keep it away from him.

"Rak!" a harsh, guttural voice shouted from somewhere over by the door. "Rak! Get off him!"

The hulking quadruped didn't obey. It snapped at Spencer's face, its yellow reptilian eyes gleaming with hunger. Spencer heard whoever had shouted swear in an angry voice, and then heavy footsteps coming across the tiled floor. A bulky figure holding a metal club loomed over him and the creature.

"Off him!" the man yelled. "Now!"

He brought the metal club down and drove it into the creature's side. The instant the club made contact with its scaly skin a brilliant actinic light flared from it, and speared the creature with tendrils of energy. Rak roared in pain and clambered off Spencer, scurrying away to the corner of the room.

Spencer took a deep breath as the lead weight on his chest disappeared. Through watering eyes he looked up at the grinning porcine face of his savior.

"Thank you," Spencer croaked, "I think."

The pig humanoid chuckled. "Spencer Elmer," he said. His gruff voice was thick with contempt. "I should have known you'd poke your snout into my business sooner or later."

Spencer blinked and realized why the mutant looked so familiar. "Slob Boar," he almost spat out the name. "Now this really is a surprise, and not a nice one at that. Want to make yourself useful and help me to get up?"

An angry scowl spread across Slob Boar's porcine face, but he reached down with one meaty trotter like hand and helped Spencer get to his feet.

"Thank you," Spencer said, taking a step back to fully assess the pig humanoid. Slob Boar was squat and burly, with a large snout and cruel green eyes. Yellowed tusks jutted up from his lower lip and spots covered his heavy jowls. He wore a greasy, fur lined tunic and baggy, oil stained trousers. Round his fat neck were thick gold chains and large, garish rings bedecked his stubby fingers. Slob Boar was savage and cruel, with a score of violent crimes to his name. Spencer had first encountered the thug a few years ago in the Starband, where the pig man had been operating a people smuggling ring. He'd been supplying desperate and vulnerable workers to the sweatshops and factories of corrupt business owners all across the Western Territories. Spencer had accepted the bounty taken out on him by the Starband Marshals and successfully shut down the operation with help from the Griffin Federation's Security Service, who also had an interest in taking down the operation. He'd believed Slob Boar had been killed during the raid on the headquarters of the smuggling ring. He was therefore more than disappointed to find the mutant alive and well, but not surprised he'd be low enough to be involved in a caper like this.

"You're looking well, Slob Boar," Spencer said, trying to buy time. "Shame. I was hoping you were fish food at the bottom of the Growling Sea."

Slob Boar snorted. "I'm a survivor, Spence. You know that."

"Yes, unfortunately," Spencer said sourly. He watched as the creature Slob Boar called Rak padded back to his master's side. Rak was a hulking, crocodilian brute of orange scales with a yellow underbelly, but oddly, had large paws and distinctively feline characteristics as well. As Spencer watched the predator, Rak twitched his whiskers and growled up at him. "Nice little pet you got there."

"He is," Slob Boar agreed, patting Rak on the head with his free hand. "Tear you to shreds as much as look at you. That's what I like about Alligator Lions. I picked him up at a black market menagerie over in Diagon Alley. It's nice to have him round when unwanted visitors decide to drop in."

"I can well imagine," Spencer drawled. "Your robot was none too friendly either."

"Yeah, it's gonna cost a fortune to get him fixed, thanks to you. I should let Rak here rip your throat out," replied Slob Boar in a conversational tone.

"Now where's the fun in that? That's not your style at all. Surely you want me to suffer first?"

Slob Boar seemed to think about this for a moment. "Yeah, you're right," he said and plunged the head of his club into Spencer's stomach. It crackled with blue energy that seared through Spencer's body. He crumpled to the floor in agony. Slob Boar let out a harsh laugh.

"What's the matter son? Am I a playing a little too rough?"

Spencer clutched at his stomach and rolled onto his side. The pain pulsed through him making his body scream. Slob Boar placed the tip of the club against Spencer's neck, but another energy blast didn't come. Spencer spotted that there was a button on the handle of the club that the pig man pressed to unleash its lethal power. "You don't look so good. Hope you're not going to pass out on me, we got a long night ahead of us."

Spencer let out a sharp cough and wiped at his mouth. "Before we get started at least do me the courtesy of telling me who's running this operation."

Slob Boar frowned and jabbed his thumb into the center of his chest. "Ain't it obvious that I'm in charge here?"

"No, it's definitely not you Slob," Spencer replied with a shake of his head. The pain had subsided now, but he made a show of still being completely helpless. He made a weak gesture with his hand. "All of this is too sophisticated for a meathead like you. The robot, the pill machinery, the supply chain, it takes sophistication, big money. Someone with real brains came up with all of this. It's way out of your league."

The mutant looked hurt by this blunt assessment of his capabilities, but he nodded his head in agreement. "Granted, it's not my idea, but I get the stuff into circulation, supply the dealers, and substitute the genuine pills for the ones made here. I run everything on behalf of my client."

Spencer heard the pride in Slob Boar's voice and felt even more disgusted by him. "Your client? So I was right, you are the hired help. Who's really the boss here?"

Slob Boar grinned. "I can't give away my client's identity. Needless to say I'm being well paid for my services."

"But what's this client possibly going to gain?" Spencer pressed, alive with curiosity. "You're not making any real money by putting these pills out there and the drug companies have received no blackmail demands."

"It's not about blackmail."

Spencer nodded. "If you're not careful Tiphareth will be taken off the market altogether." He paused and a slow smile crept over his face. "Unless that's what you want."

"Very good Spence. The business interests I represent want that to happen. You see, they possess the means of supplying an alternative to Tiphareth when the time is right. People will be desperate to plug the gap. They stand to make a killing."

The image of the crushed security droid flashed into Spencer's mind and he suddenly had a flash of inspiration. "You're working for the Trade Federation."

Slob Boar hissed through his teeth. "How'd you know that?"

"I didn't until you just confirmed it," drawled Spencer. "That robot out in the warehouse, I knew I'd seen that model someplace before but I couldn't quite place it. It's a retrofitted IG-RM Thug Droid. The TF used them to break up Workers' Rights rallies and intimidate people on several of their Factory Worlds. Another tip off was that apart from you this whole set-up is automated to reduce costs, and, last of all the whole repulsive idea is just their kind of thing. I doubt it's a coincidence either that they've just established their first commerce embassy in Londinium."

"Smart kid, but it won't do you any favors," sneered the mutant.

"I think the TF are being a little bit over ambitious though. The cases of contaminated Tiphareth haven't been widespread enough to call for a full scale withdrawal from the market, and I don't think you're producing enough here to bring that about."

"This is only the pilot scheme," Slob Boar replied. "We'll set up operations like these across the Fertile Kingdoms. I'll be head of the whole shebang when that happens. The Trade Federation has powerful friends in government who will press for a complete ban on Tiphareth across the whole of the Fertile Kingdoms. We'll pump out so much of this crud they won't have a choice."

"That means more people are harmed by your pills or killed by them," Spencer retorted, appalled at the plan. "You can't hurt all those innocent people. It's inhumane!"

"It's business," Slob Boar replied. "But that's enough talk, I'm getting bored telling you my evil plans." He pressed the head of the club against Spencer's ribcage. "It's time for a bit of fun. I think I'll break your teeth first. That stupid grin of yours has always got on my nerves."

"You're more than welcome to try," retorted Spencer.

Seizing his moment, he lunged up at Slob Boar making a grab for the club. Luckily, he caught the mutant off-guard. Almost snatching it clean out of his hand the two got locked in a struggle to possess it. Rak roared and tried to slash at Spencer's chest with his claws. Spencer dodged the strike and managed to shove Slob Boar into the Alligator Lion.

"Get out of the way, Rak!" Slob Boar yelled as he fell over the monster.

Spencer made a grab for the club, but Slob Boar activated its power and Spencer was forced back by the blazing energy. Slob boar scrambled to his feet, swinging the club at Spencer's head. Spencer sprang back and spotted his Lasso Pistol. He snatched it up and fired it just as Rak bounded towards him. Epoxy rope wrapped itself around the Alligator Lion's front legs and he crashed to the ground, struggling to break free of the bounds. Spencer fired again, tying up Rak's back legs and leaving him incapacitated.

Slob Boar suddenly came at him, swinging the club wildly. He would have caved Spencer's head in if Rak hadn't bit Slob Boar's ankle as the beast thrashed about on the floor. Slob Boar screamed and was about to aim a kick at Rak's head when Spencer fired his Lasso Pistol at the mutant. Rope lashed around his wide torso, pinning his arms to his side. He dropped the club and Spencer rushed him, giving him a swift uppercut to the chin. Slob Boar went sprawling back and collided with the metal table.

"That's for Sanika," Spencer said fiercely, and then punched him again in the stomach, "and that's for how you treat Rak!"

It was over. With Slob Boar and his vicious pet overpowered, it was time to let Monkian know that the drug operation was out of commission. Before contacting the police though, Spencer used his comm-crystal to call up his old friend Hagrid, and made arrangements for the half giant to come over and collect Rak. Spencer was worried that the police would have the animal destroyed and that did not sit well with him. It wasn't the Alligator Lion's fault he'd been used by Slob Boar and he was sure Hagrid would be able to take care of the creature and find him a good home.

Spencer also checked in with the Temple of Pelor to see how Sanika was doing, but there was no improvement. Spencer stormed out of the lab before he lost his temper with Slob Boar and went back into the warehouse to wait for Hagrid to arrive. It wasn't Slob Boar he should be mad at, but the Trade Federation. Spencer wanted them to face justice but that was unlikely considering how slick their lawyers were, but at least this scandal might force the Trade Federation to close down their commerce embassy. They wouldn't be doing business in the Fertile Kingdoms for a long time. One day though, he'd bring their whole corrupt empire down completely.


	4. The Gift

The biggest problem with being a parasite is you always have to keep your eye on the next meal. Certainly mine was giving me a run for my money. I had trailed her from the Souk, keeping her in sight as she drifted through the swamp markets. Then, in barely the blink of an eye, she had ducked straight down into the canals.

As I clambered onto a terrapin in pursuit I roundly cursed my complacency. I'd got too good at this. One just assumed everyone was an easy target. Of course, the scrag-ends that infested Underprovince were usually more than an easy target. However sometimes, very rarely I might add, you do find an exception to the rule.

After a couple of hours, my exception to the rule had well and truly given me the slip. But I refused to accept defeat. I had left it too long between feeds this time. The Apathy Virus nestled in my system had bitten with a vengeance, leaving me paralyzed with indolence. When finally I'd scraped enough willpower together, the first signs of calcifying had set in. Usually the odd mudlicker or string harlot would tide me over – that's what my diet mostly consisted of – hence my wastrel romantic look, but now I'd need something more substantial to counter the onset of decay. So, I'd crawled out of pit, darting like a dog on heat into the heart of the Souk.

I crouched over the terrapin's head, peering through the mist. The bob lamps that lined the shore lanced the gloom with spectral green light. It gave the murk a melodramatic tinge. The water yawned round us black as death. The scent that chilled me like a glacier came in disjointed strands. Scraps of memory barely hinting at the promise I'd tasted in the Souk. Part of me wanted to abandon the hunt, to find something easier. But bull-headed pride urged me on. Doggedly, I clung onto every mote of her memory scent, steering the terrapin along in pursuit.

There!

Up ahead a pier stretched like a skeletal hand across the water. Her silhouette, a piece of black cloth cut into the gloom, strode across it. With my blood up, I urged my terrapin onwards. The creature glided forwards, then suddenly baulked. Beneath the pier, her terrapin mount floated like driftwood, the burn of a laser bolt slam-bang in the center of its blunt head. Panic swept through my ride, nearly throwing me into the water. I kept my footing, leaping like a cat to latch onto the side of the pier. Free of my weight, the terrapin thrashed round and darted away. By the time I clambered onto the boardwalk it had vanished into the night. So had she. She knew I was following, and was playing the game accordingly. With no other alternative, I played along.

The pier led into Maggot Town. In my haste to pursue the scent, I'd not realized we'd gone out this far. My gut twisted at being so close to the Broken Sea. Still, I'd come too far to turn back now. I made my way down the gully of mud that was Maggot Town's main street. Squalid huts reared out of the filth like half-chewed crabs. From the darkness the eerie lumens of bulging eyes tracked my way.

With a grimace, I recalled the taste of the Murk Men who lurked out here. It had been that time some chinless wonder in Overprovince had sent a bounty hunter after me, a real professional, Elgar or Elmer, I can't remember the name now. To avoid him I'd jumped into the body of a swamp troll and hidden out in the wetlands surrounding Maggot Town. Thus, I had to make do with the Murk Men that dived there for pearls. Foul. Minds of empty gray lost in moronic veneration of the Watcher In The Sea.

But that was all in the past. I was human again thankfully. A hired thug working the Glitter Harems on the Boulevard. Belonged to one of the minor Mumm-Ra cults, so nobody would kick up much of a fuss about losing him. He'd been down in the Shards disposing of a disagreeable client. I lapped up his sordid memories with the panting heat of a voyeur, deciding there and then to fuse with him. His agony was exquisite. When the Apathy Virus was at its worse, I'd cling like a lover to those beautiful moments of naked terror. To know there are still beacons of such rich intensity was the key to my survival.

Space. The verdigris bridge of a Warnaught. Crocodilian shapes hunched over consoles. She stands in the center of the chanteuse light. On the monitor is the image of a planet smooth as marble. I see her face, long, hard edged. Not pretty, but there's a certain charm there. She gives the order. The ship shudders as the missiles launch. The planet cracks like an egg.

The memory crumbled on the chill air. I breathed deeply, savoring the recollection. Maggot Town had ended in a wall of black rock. In the distance I heard the crash of waves. The wind howled overhead like a banshee.

An icy plateau. Bodies litter the ground. Blood seeps from fresh wounds, staining the snow. She stands gazing out at the mountain range. The kill is still hot, the pleasure unsullied. She smiles.

I was climbing now. Hands and feet clambering over jagged rock. I had barely started before I felt the sting of a dozen grazes, but I didn't care. She was waiting. The memories tumbled over me like a waterfall. She cast them down at me like scraps from the table. Lovers, wars, worlds of shimmering glass and empires of fire wrenched steel. She had lived countless lifetimes, almost as many as me, and all of them red and sticky sweet. She had been an empress, a goddess, a thief, a whore, a CEO, a dictator, a mother, a revolutionary, a witch. She took me back to that petty desert fiefdom where an ambitious sultan bargained with the Engineers for the Eternity Virus. I thrilled as I watched the abused slave creep to his bedside and slit open his throat, lapping up the blood and infecting herself with the Virus.

That was where it all began.

She had taken the sultan's place, and for a while it was enough. Then, she got bored. Don't we all? The fiefdom became a slaughterhouse and she went onto bigger and better things. Leaving a trail of destruction, surviving spacedeath to bring chaos into the Artifice. An eternity of possibilities. An eternity craving vengeance and power. Never before had I been so close to unadulterated evil, and it made me burn.

I clambered onto the ledge.

The Broken Sea churned below, a tenebrous morass of diamond acid. Ironically the sight unearthed my own buried memories. I was back aboard the Tsarina. Stubbs and Gazen squabbling. There had been a fall out over how we were going to split the loot. A fight broke out, Stubbs fired his laser pistol, hitting the console and causing the crash. The foreboding of the grey island we ended up on. I watched the three of us enter the cave, shuddered at the slimy embrace of the thing we'd awoken. The thing that made me devour my friends. The thing that turned me into me.

"You know, we could have found somewhere more comfortable to do this," I pointed out, bracing against the wind.

She stood at the cliff edge, black cloak billowing out. "I have many enemies," she said. Her voice was low but each word was crystal sharp in the air. "I was anxious that our business was not interrupted. My apologies for the terrapin."

"Think nothing of it." I walked towards her across a smoking battlefield. The blackened bones of a race that defied her will lay freshly charred at my feet. I paused at a respectful distance. Waiting.

After a while she broke the silence. "I am told you can see memories beforehand."

"Glimpses," I concurred. "They become my own when I feed."

"I cannot die."

"My sympathies."

"The Eternity Virus," she said as way of explanation.

"I am familiar with the abilities of the Engineers," I replied smoothly. "Death is not a requisite, but it is usual."

She turned to me. I looked into her face, seeing it carved in stone, painted on canvas, flickering on holo-vids. Mono-browed primitives groveled before it, cocksure swains pledged undying love to it, rabid freedom fighters spat at it.

"But I will forget?"

The question was framed impartially, but I could hear the brittle undertone. Her aching need left cold ash in my mouth. I wondered if I'd ever go the same way.

"Everything," I promised.

"Others have come to you before, wanting the same thing," she deduced from my nonchalance.

"A few, but none as . . . well-travelled as yourself."

A small smile quirked her lips. My excitement dipped. There would be no pain when I fed, no fear. She would give herself willingly. I cupped her long chin in my hands. Her skin was ice cold. Mercury eyes gazed up at me. In their glistening pools writhed countless screaming victims. Still, I reflected, at least I would eat well.


	5. The Price

It was not what he was expecting. As Scott pressed the bell and was let into the grey faced office building that was his initial thought. It was late October, and pilgrims of moccasin brown leaves congregated on the street outside where he lived. Amber always loved the autumn. He’d lost count of how many times he’d tried to entice her with three weeks in Fuerteventura at this time of year, but she always refused. “But I’ll miss the leaves,” she would protest, “can’t honour the equinox frying on a beach, babe.”

Amber was whacky like that.

No, it was not what he was expecting at all. The waiting room he found himself in was spacious and bright; all neutral colours, pot plants and abstract art. As he sat in the leather armchair the drone of London at rush hour drifted through the window. The sky outside was a wall of battleship grey. He drummed his fingers on the armrest, trying to fight down the gnawing anxiety chewing him up from the inside.

The receptionist, a bland looking woman in her forties, absently filed her nails. The phone on her desk remained silent. After what seemed an intermediate age, the sharp trill of a bell made her look up. 

“He’ll see you now,” she said blandly, with a bland smile on her bland face.

Scott felt a surge of panic. This was crazy he told himself. What the hell was he doing here? He should turn around right now and walk straight out of this place if he had any sense. Instead, his legs propelled him to the door to the inner office and he suddenly found himself knocking on it.

“Come,” beckoned a voice from within.

Mister Chesterton rose to his feet as Scott entered the room. He was a rotund, jovial looking little man, with a wide smile that lit up his crumpled, lived-in face. In his pinstriped suit he looked quite incongruous against the pastel blandness of the modern office.

“Ah, Scott,” he rumbled, “so good to meet you at last. Please, please sit down. Gloomy weather isn’t it?”

“Er, yes,” replied Scott nervously, taking his place on the proffered seat. His gaze was drawn directly behind Chesterton where a painting of the sea hung. It was set at night time, during a storm, with thunderous waves smashing against cruel black rocks. The image set him on edge and he looked away quickly.

Chesterton settled himself down into the folds of his chair, making the leather sigh. He folded his podgy hands across his chest.

“Thank you for seeing me,” Scott said shyly. His senses were screaming that this was a bad idea, but it was too late to do anything about it now. He fell silent, unsure what else to say. 

“I get the feeling you are not comfortable with this situation,” Mister Chesterton said wryly. “Please, there is nothing wrong in your request. I’ve helped a great many clients just like you. I assure you, it is all perfectly safe.”

“It’s not that I don’t – I mean, that is I do . . .” Scott trailed off and swallowed. Suddenly his throat had become very dry. “I don’t mean to be rude or anything, but I’m not sure that – ” his eyes snagged again on the unsettling painting behind Chesterton. He felt like he was drowning. “I mean, I’m not really sure I believe – ”

“You don’t believe that I can raise the dead,” Chesterton interrupted, cocking one eyebrow. He let out a little chuckle.

Scott gave him a helpless look. He shook his head.

Chesterton’s eyes narrowed into slits. “If that’s the case, Scott,” he said, his voice lowering, “then why are you here?”

Why was he here? Amber had died two years ago. He’d found her lying in the bath, the cold water stained red. They’d been fighting pretty badly for months, but Scott hadn’t realised she was so depressed. He’d come across Chesterton’s details after sorting through her stuff. Amber was a nut for all this spiritual garbage. She’d been a practicing White Witch for crying out loud. As a dyed in the wool beer and football bloke, he’d made no secret about his feelings and everyone, himself included, had been utterly surprised they’d gotten together. They really were very different people. Scott didn’t think it was a problem.

He had been wrong.

“It’s not that impossible, you know,” Chesterton said conversationally. He heaved himself out of his chair. The motion made Scott think of a bear emerging from hibernation. “You know Scott, when I was a younger man I travelled the world looking for the ultimate secret, the means of defeating death itself.” He padded over to the leather black ottoman set against the wall and wheeled it toward the middle of the room on its casters. “I went to some very interesting places and met some rather . . . challenging people. There were a few close shaves, I can tell you.” He brought the ottoman to a stop and Scott got warily to his feet. “But finally, after many years of struggle and hardship, I learnt the secret.”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the ottoman. He was so close now that Scott could smell his cologne and something else underneath, something faintly rotten. “Losing someone is a terrible thing, Scott,” Chesterton said softly. “I remember how I felt when I lost my own dear wife. People like to offer feeble platitudes about how time heals and other guff, but you are a young man Scott, and Amber was so very beautiful. Tell me truly now. Can you bear to live without her?”

Sweat trickled down Scott’s spine. This was crazy. No one could bring back the dead. This Chesterton was some kind of fruitcake, or a con man. Most of these people were. This was all some kind of trick to prey on his emotions. He’d had enough though. He was going to walk out right now.

He missed her so much. She shouldn’t have died like that. He should have listened more, shouldn’t have tried to change her. He shouldn’t have slept with Suzie after they had that big fight. Amber should be here with him now, alive. It was his fault she was dead. She had killed herself because of him. It shouldn’t, mustn’t end this way.

“I want her back!” he yelled, his voice raw and bleeding with aching need.

Chesterton straightened slowly, a look of triumph on his cherubic face. “Of course you do.”

There was a sudden blur of movement and Chesterton threw the lid of the ottoman open.

Scott stared into it, horror slicing through him. Wide, frightened eyes looked back at him. The child, a girl, was curled up at the bottom of the ottoman. Duct tape had been wrapped round her wrists and ankles and across her mouth. She couldn’t have been more than ten years old.

He tried to move. He wanted to pick her up, but he was rooted to the spot. Icy tendrils of pure terror wrapped around his chest. “What. . . what is this?”

“The price of course,” replied Mister Chesterton

“You abducted her!” Scott blurted out. “What the hell are you?”

“Now, now,” chided Chesterton, raising his hands. “No need to get excitable. It’s very simple. There has to be a balance you see, between this world and the other. You want Amber back? Someone else has to take her place.”

Scott stared at the little girl, realisation dawning. The pressure was tightening in his chest. “You can’t kill her!” he cried out.

“Oh, don’t worry, no one will miss this little dot,” Chesterton said jovially, ruffling the girl’s unwashed hair. The girl recoiled from him trying to push herself tighter into the corner of the ottoman. “Mother’s a drug addict,” Chesterton said gravely. “Father, who knows where he is? Sad really, sign of the times I guess. Besides,” his eyes slid up and down Scott, “it’s not me that’s making the bargain here.”

Scott looked at Mister Chesterton and then at the wall behind his desk. In the painting of the sea something stirred. Large black claws clasped the storm battered rocks. It hoisted itself up, a vast, rippling . . . thing. Scott let out a strangled gasp. The thing’s benthic head leaned forward. It smiled.

“It is traditional to use a dagger,” Chesterton said, moving back behind the desk. He opened one of the drawers and rummaged through it. “Most clients, though, find that somewhat distasteful, so, I’ve got something easier, if I can find it. Ah, here we are.”

He produced a small silver case. Scott felt something pressed into his hand. Somehow his eyes moved away from the painting and he looked down. He was holding a hypodermic needle.

“Very quick and clean,” said Chesterton. “It’ll all be over quick as a flash.”

Scott looked down at the little girl. A puddle had formed at the bottom of the ottoman. In the outer office, the phone began to ring.


	6. Tangled Up In Blue

“Possessive?” I asked, as the clown made a swipe at my head with the crowbar.   
I dodged out of the way and in one fluid movement was behind him, smacking his head against the metal wall. His round red nose let out a squeak as he crumpled onto the floor.

I turned to see Nao wrestling with the robo-snake. “Since when I am possessive?” I asked.

“Maybe possessive is too strong a word,” Nao conceded grabbing the snake by the throat before it sunk its fangs into his face. With a sharp yank, he pulled it off him holding it at arms’ length. A sharp twist caused sparks to erupt from its mouth and the smoking body landed harmlessly at his feet. The snake charmer swore and lunged at him with a knife. A well aimed gut kick sent the man sprawling.

That was the last of the robbers. I came to join Nao at the gravity safe, realising with a wince that I had swirled my cape as I approached. It was the blue one matching the tone of my skin, with the silver moons and stars embroidered onto it. A very trashy affair, but Nao said I looked cute in it. “Now you look like a proper Blue Wizard,” he declared, flashing his fangs as he buckled the clasp at my neck. Blue Wizard was what the meganet had christened me when I first went public. Personally, as the son of a djinn sultan, I’d hoped for something a mite more ostentatious, like Sorcerer Superior or the Crime-fighting Caliph. Gods, I had been a pompous queen.

“When I said you were possessive,” Nao began, pursing his lips, “what I kinda meant is that you’re . . . erm . . . possessive.” He shrugged apologetically giving me that sweet little smile he knew always made me melt. This time, though, I was going to resist.

I reached past him and put my hand in the safe. The Twins’ goons had managed to shut down the fields before we arrived. I took out the hiero-disc that was inside it and held it up to the light. “And since when exactly have I been possessive?”

“That time I teamed up with Atomic Owl to catch Madame Mindmelter. You called me every hour on the hour to see what we were doing,” replied Nao.

“I was worried,” I retorted.

“You followed us and you ransacked Atomic Owl’s aviary. You blew up his battle canaries, Rand. Man, was he gutted.”

“He had the hots for you. I was worried he would try something,” I protested.

“Please, he’s about two hundred and eighty. Besides, he’s got that whole husband trapped in the spectral dimensions vibe going on to be interested in me.”

“So, I overreacted.”

“And that time I was invited to Ice Box’s fetish ball. You planted spy scarabs all over his sky condo.”

“Now hang on,” I said, pointing at him, “that was justified. The guy’s a real degenerate you know. He’s got fister dolls up there for crying out loud. What’s all that about?”

Anger flashed in Nao’s emerald eyes. “The point is you should trust me.”

An uncomfortable silence settled over us. I pretended to study the disc. Nao crossed his bare arms over his chest. “What is that anyway?” he asked after a while.

“It’s the schematics for the city’s defence grid,” I replied, scanning the strands of quicksilver. “Osano Corp controls the copyright. Looks like Tittle-Tattle was right. The Twins are planning to make a killing on the cyber market.”

Nao nodded. “So, what do we do now?”

Before I could reply, the clown I’d taken down suddenly ran between us and snatched the disc from my hand. A heartbeat later, springs shot out of the heels of his oversized shoes and he bounced straight out of the office window.

“Follow that clown!” I yelled, getting caught up in the drama.

* * * 

Maybe I was too possessive. But when your ass looks that good in spandex, wouldn’t you be? At that moment I was getting a damn good view of it as we raced from Osano Head Office. The clown had got to his comedy car, a bright yellow contraption fitted out with a couple of booster engines. He surged off through the city streets in a cloud of sparkly pink smoke. Nao was pounding across the rooftops above, caught up in the hunt. On all fours in his stripped costume, he truly lived up to his name; Tiger Lad. Though I could fly, when he was this savage he easily outpaced me.

Oh yes, I can fly. It’s supposedly one of my magic powers, though of course all djinn can fly. Most of my other powers were stage tricks I’d learnt off crazy Uncle Zappro. So, I wasn’t really a wizard. Not a proper one. If I was, maybe I could have cast a love spell over Nao.

The clown turned sharply to the left, going straight into Spritetown. At this time the night-market would be in full swing. Screams and shouts suddenly clawed the air from below. Nao let out a roar of fury and put on an extra spurt of speed.

A sliver of ice ran down my spine. Nao was really mad. Was it just the clown, or was he angry at me? He had a point, granted, but he just didn’t understand what it was like for me. I came out on the wrong side of thirty and was almost castrated for my trouble. Things were different here in Eagle City, not like back home. He really had no idea how good he had it. This was where we first met of course, when I was taken in by the Pandora Institute. He was with Primal Squad back then. I remember the first time I saw him. Bright green cat eyes dazzling in that swarthy, boyish face, the jet black hair with the cute little kiss curl – and that smile! I was too scared to even speak to him. Not that he ever noticed. At the time he was close ‘friends’ with Machine Jaguar and Lion Boy. It was the kind of friendship I’d only ever seen on fapnet. Back then, I was just the geeky blue queer that got under everyone’s feet and was lumbered with all the crappo assignments. Rescuing little old ladies from trees, helping kittens cross the road, you know, that kind of lame stuff.

Then Omega Khan attacked the city. We lost so many in the war that followed. Superheroes and Supervillains alike, and everything else in between. I still have flashbacks to the Battle of Red Moth where Spencer Elmer made his last stand. Those terrible years brought Nao and me together. We’d shared the ordeal and we’d survived.

Sometimes, I wonder if that was all we had in common.

A sharp whine split the air. Two slender red missiles were cutting across the night sky straight toward me. That damn clown had micro-nukes! I banked swiftly out of their path and swooped west toward the ocean. The missiles turned and followed me. I figured they’d be fitted with aura seekers. I picked up speed, clearing the harbour, the missiles keeping up with me. I twisted around again, hoping to try and shake them off but they wouldn’t play ball. Panic flared in my chest. At this rate, I’d be half way to Dragon Island before I got rid of them.

The sear of diamond lasers strafed my back. A heartbeat later the missiles exploded. White pain flashed behind my eyes as the impact sent me cart-wheeling across the sky. I recovered just before I went plummeting into the water. Quickly, I flew upwards and headed back toward the city.

Assault Choppers hovered over the dark red skyline. I had the Eagle Guard to thank for getting me out of my predicament. Despite the shortages in manpower, Commissar Stellon was still keeping order in the city. I waved my thanks to the Choppers and swooped down to the docks before they could catch me and hook electrodes to my genitals. The Eagle Guard, for some reason, regarded torturing Superheroes a requisite in maintaining public safety.

It must have been a busy night because they quickly gave up looking for me. Hiding behind a warehouse, I checked my comm. pad for a signal from Nao. A beacon flared angrily on the view-screen. He was deep inside the Lawless Zone. My gut clenched. That was Nao all over, rushing in blind without any regard for the risks. Then, when he fouled up I had to come in and clean up the mess. He needed me, surely he understood that? Clipping the comm. pad to my arm console, I launched again and flew towards the source of the signal. 

* * * 

The circus was deadly silent. Garland lights cast pretty colours on gaudy posters hawking their acts; death defying acrobats, sable faced fire-eaters, disturbingly grinning clowns. All the performers had been dead the best part of twenty years, but the Havoc Twins had preserved the circus exactly as it had been when their father was alive. They had turned it into a mausoleum in his honour.

I swooped down to the burnt out tenement where Nao waited. At this time of night raper gangs ran riot, but they all kept well clear of this part of town. The Twins idea of depravity was on a completely different level to theirs.

“About time,” Nao growled when I crept up behind him. He was standing by the window looking out at the front gates of the circus.

“I was inconvenienced on the way over,” I replied sullenly. “If you really cared, you’d have come looking for me. We knew where the clown was going. The Twins don’t exactly appreciate the subtlety of having a hideout.”

The shrug Nao gave me was barely perceptible in the dark. “I thought maybe you’d found a busy glory hole to kneel in front of.”

That stung. Why bring that up after all this time? My one and only time I’d gone cruising, and I only did it because we’d had a fight. The moonlight streaming from the shattered skylight glinted off Nao’s fangs. “Still don’t know how you thought you wouldn’t get caught Rand. You’re bright blue for crying out loud, and then you dare to say to can’t trust me?”

“Can we not talk about this now?” I snapped irritably. “We do have more important things to deal with at the moment.”

“We always do. That’s part of the reason why – ” he broke off suddenly.

My whole body tensed. “Why what?”

He looked down at his bare feet. “Rand,” he began, struggling to find the words, “I wasn’t going to say anything yet- ” 

Something dropped down from the skylight above. I turned just in time to see the flashbolt explode, and was almost glad when unconsciousness swallowed me.

* * * 

The waking world returned, holding a big hammer which it merrily banged against the inside of my skull. With tremendous effort, I opened my eyes to the glare of electric lights. Predictably, I had been tied up.

“Welcome back,” Nao said next to me.

We had been lashed together back to back and sat upright in the centre of the big top. Standing over us was the clown we had chased, a large bald guy stripped to the waist, the lion tamer, judging by the two robo-lions at his heels, and a skinny little man in a sparkly leotard who I took to be some kind of acrobat. The lion tamer looked kinda sexy in a psycho thug way. I moved my face toward Nao. “Been a long time since I woke up to a room full of men.”

“Long time as in never, you mean,” he muttered back.

The troupe did not speak. They turned their attention to where a curtain had opened at the far side of the tent. Two figures appeared side by side in the opening, and two pairs of flame red stilettos crunched over the sawdust toward us.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” Li Havoc’s smooth, contralto voice brushed like silk over my ears. 

I looked up at the Twins. They were dressed identically, their rather voluptuous figures spilling out of short red cocktail dresses. Their faces were heart shaped and had a kind of prettiness about them, if you discounted the demented grins. The only way you could tell them apart, was that Li’s pony-tailed hair was platinum blonde, whilst La had dyed hers jet black.

“Evening ladies,” I replied back with a perkiness I did not feel inside. “You wanna come back later? As you can see, we’re a little tied up at the moment.”

La laughed at this, a wild donkey bray. Li Havoc was definitely the brains of the outfit. “I just love gay guys,” she purred, “masking their inner pain with wacky humour.”

“Better than dissolving people in acid, I guess.” 

Li’s eyes narrowed. The Twins slowly circled us, moving as one. The story went that they had been born separately, but old Doc Havoc had sewn them together when they were babies. All the members of the original Black Circus Gang had been the products of the late doctor’s obscene experiments. I felt a pang of sympathy. Would their lives have been any different if they’d been left to be normal? Would I have been happier if I wasn’t gay?

“Oh, I don’t know,” replied Li, leaning provocatively over Nao. “Saves a bundle on therapy bills.”

Next to me, I could feel Nao’s claws working on the ropes. If I’d been straight he would never have come into my life. I figured that was a fair exchange for being ordinary. “So, girls, what’s with stealing state secrets? I thought knocking over liquor stores was just about you level of competence?”

Li scowled. That shot hit home. “Eagle City’s not the superpower it once was. Now its’ lost most of its Superheroes, the other city-states are getting cocky. There’s not a government that wouldn’t pay a king’s ransom for that disc.”

Li gave us a self-satisfied look just as Nao lunged at the lion tamer. Trust him to go for the butch one. The robo-lions roared and surged forward, but I was free too now and got between them. One lashed at me with its metal claws. Pain seared like fire across my chest and blood welled out onto my outfit. I grabbed the nearest lion by the throat and pulled out its motor circuit. It went slack in my hands. At the same moment, the other one leapt at my back and I slammed into the ground. Before its jaws could rip out the back of my head, Nao had got to its circuit and it slumped on top of me as a dead weight.

I pulled myself free and took down that jerk of a clown. His face made a satisfying crunching sound as my fist smashed into it. A sharp kick to the small of my back nearly winded me. I spun round to face the Twins. They swept forward, moving as one, a whirling carousel of fists and feet. I got a punch to my jaw, I think from La, and rolled with it. Li screeched in fury and made to claw at my face. I swatted away her arms and elbowed her in the face. La ripped at my hair, but I smacked her back, the force knocking her cold. A glint of metal caught in the corner of my eye. Li had brought up a knife from somewhere and it was heading for my throat. Nao’s green eyes flashed behind her and she slumped forward. I let them both fall to the ground. 

It was done.

Nao had seen to the strong man, acrobat and lion tamer and the whole gang were sprawled at our feet. I bent down and pulled off the necklace La wore. The hiero-disc winked at me from the gold chain.

I could hear Nao’s breathing. It was time. I didn’t look at him. I’d worked out what all of this had been leading to.

“Rand,” he said his voice tight in his throat. “I think we should break up.”

I stared at the disc. I wasn’t surprised, but it still came as a shock. I didn’t look up.

“Rand?” he said, “did you hear what I said?”

I pocketed the disc and walked to the entrance of the big top.


	7. Crazy Cat Lady

My girlfriend’s mom asked me to take over the weekly groceries to the weird old lady who lived on the edge of our town. People called her the crazy cat lady because of all the strays she took in and because she was eccentric and a recluse. She lived in a large Victorian mansion and as kids we used to dare each other to go up and knock on the huge black front door before running away again. Even back then she was the crazy cat lady and very old. By now, she must have been well past a hundred.

I didn’t relish going back there and seeing what she looked like now, but I couldn’t not take over the groceries over. My girlfriend’s family were going through hell after her five year old brother had gone missing three weeks before and with still no trace of him they were out of their minds with worry. My girlfriend and her mom are really caring and go out of their way to help people less well off than them, and her mom liked to help out crazy cat lady because the old woman didn’t have anyone else, but it was getting too much under the circumstances. So, I couldn’t say no when she asked me to go on the grocery drop instead of her.

A feeling of dread wrapped round my guts as I headed toward her home. It was a cold damp morning and there was no-one around except a bloke up a ladder fixing a security light. He had the radio on and I heard snatches of the news as I went by him. It was still all about that Youtuber ElmoFilms, the one my girlfriend fancies. Now that the police had finally managed to identify all of the bodies they could confirm he was definitely not among them and a search had begun to find him. Like my girlfriend’s brother, it was a mystery no-one seemed to be able to solve.  
I finally reached my destination and walked up the drive to the ramshackle house. It reared up as menacing and imposing as it did back when I was a kid. Clutching the box of groceries tightly to my chest I fought down the urge to turn round and run away as fast as I could. All I had to do was put the box down on the porch and ring the bell. I didn’t have to wait around for her to open the door. I could be back home and safe and warm before I knew it.

As I approached the porch step I felt unseen eyes watching me and a chill went down my spine. I wanted to get away from this creepy dump as fast as possible and swore under my breath. Why couldn’t the old bat just order her groceries online like normal people?

I was at the front door by now, and set down the box before ringing the doorbell. The thin sound clawed the air and I quickly retreated down the steps of the porch. Just as I was about to hurry away though, I heard the faint sound of a woman’s voice coming from behind the huge black door.

“Help! Please help me!”

At first I thought it was my imagination playing tricks on me, and I kept on walking away. But then, the voice called out again, more insistent and desperate sounding. Against my better judgement I went back to the front door and called back, asking what was wrong and to open up. The woman just kept on calling out for help. She was whining, begging, and before I could stop myself I reached out and pushed at the door. It opened at my touch and some powerful, unseen force compelled me to step into the darkness that yawned beyond it.

As I moved inside a thick stench hit me full in the face. I was almost sick and I wanted to retreat out of the house straight away, but I couldn’t leave until I’d checked the old woman was not in any trouble. She had gone quiet now and I couldn’t see her in the gloom so I called out again, but was greeted with silence.

I went in a little further and my eyes adjusted to the darkness. There was a wall lamp giving off a flickering light in the large room beyond the door, and I could make out piles of rubbish and rotting furniture strewn around me. Dozens of cats prowled around the room, or were eating out of discarded food packages. Some turned to look at me, their yellow eyes glowing menacingly in the dark, but most of them carried on what they were doing as if I wasn’t there. The whole place looked utterly derelict and I screwed my face up in disgust. How could anyone live like this, let alone keep animals in here?

I called out again, trying to get the attention of the old woman, but got no response. Reluctant to go any further, I made to head back through the front door. Suddenly a small black shape ran across the floor right in front of me. I let out a startled cry and stumbled backwards losing my balance and falling right over. The wooden floorboards groaned under the impact and suddenly gave way. I shouted again as I tumbled through the floor with an almighty crash. I heard meows of alarm from above and flailed helplessly as I dropped several feet before hitting the soft, wet ground below.

I think I must have passed out because I remembered nothing for the next few minutes, but when I opened my eyes again I found myself staring up at the hole in the floor above that I had fallen through. Feline eyes, cruel and yellow, peered down at me.

With tremendous effort I managed to sit up, brushing off the chunks of rotten wood and dust on my clothes and tried to figure out what to do next. I’d fallen too far to be able to climb back up again, so the only thing I could do was call for help on my phone.

When I took my phone out of my jacket, however, it was completely dead. I couldn’t get a signal or even get anything to work on the screen. Frustrated, I put the phone back in my jacket and looked around me. A pale, ghostly light filtered through the room I was in and the walls were a deep yellowish colour and covered with a strange, uneven pattern. There was something not right about the walls and I got to my feet and walked across the soft damp floor to take a closer look at the one nearest to me. The empty eye sockets of small cat skulls stared back at me, their skeletal bodies stretched long ways and attached to the wall as some kind of ghoulish decoration. I frowned as I looked round at the other walls and suddenly realised it wasn’t just a decoration, the cat skeletons were the walls themselves, hundreds of bones fused together to create the chamber I was standing in. In some of the open jaws of the skulls small candles flickered with icy blue fire, the source of the pale light.

I backed away from the ghoulish wall and felt the soft floor beneath my feet trying to suck me down. Struck with panic I spotted an archway leading out of the chamber of bones and hurried toward it. Behind me came a high pitched whine that froze the blood in my veins. I glanced back and saw hulking cat like creatures pulling themselves up out of the ground itself.

The sight of them was all I needed to turn and run as fast as I could through the archway. It led into another chamber also made of cat skeletons and in its centre was a set of stone steps leading up to a wide platform. At the top of the platform there was a bizarre altar carved from a huge cat skull. A skull that was too large to be natural. On either side of the altar two twisted braziers of iron blazed with blue fire and I could see no other way out. Stumbling toward the steps I turned and faced the creatures that were following me from the other chamber. In the blue light they vaguely resembled jaguars, but their black fur was mangy and missing in places, revealing larges patches of rotting skin that were infested with sores. Their legs were spindly and crooked and they limped and dragged themselves slowly toward me, half crippled. It was their heads that were the worse thing about them though. They had vaguely human faces, decaying and slack jawed, and looking disturbingly like the faces of children. The one closest to me wasn’t as decomposed as the rest and the face staring at me looked just like my girlfriend’s little brother, right down to the bleeding wound on the side of the head where I’d smashed his skull with the brick.

Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you about that. The reason my girlfriend’s little brother was missing is because I’d killed him and dumped his body in the river that ran next to my town. He was always in the way, taking away my girlfriend’s attention from me. She was always running round after him, and so didn’t have much time for me. With him out of the way and my girlfriend a complete wreck I could control her much better now.

The creature with her little brother’s face was getting closer and closer and a black forked tongue flicked out from its scab covered lips. I backed up the steps in terror until I couldn’t bear to look at the vile thing anymore. As I turned around I suddenly found crazy cat lady standing in front of the altar. She was freakishly tall, wrapped in a long filthy dressing gown, with a small shrivelled face and wild tangled hair that was white and grubby. She smiled at me, showing her rotting teeth.

“Help me!” I yelled at her, now close to hysteria.

“I can’t help you, dear,” she said sweetly. “I only help the little ones that have no-one else to turn to. They come to me when they need to find peace.”

I could feel my girlfriend’s brother only inches behind me. My heart was hammering against my ribcage and I lunged forward, meaning to throw the old woman in the way of the oncoming monster. Still smiling, she opened her dressing gown before I could grab her. I screamed as I saw the pulsating fleshy pulp where her body should have been. Long tendrils snaked out of the pulp, each one merging into the bodies of scrawny black furred cats with wild eyes and long yellowed claws. They hissed and snarled at me, forcing me backwards. I crumpled to my knees and started to beg for forgiveness as I felt a paw touch my shoulder from behind.


	8. Dagger & Dark

Golden dark against the crisp mountain snow, the giant eagle made an elegant swoop and locked straight on course for the landing pad. Its rider, a young man wearing the white and blue uniform of the Galaxy Rangers, was strapped into a harness attached to the bird’s back. Kol Darr finished his cigarette and carried on watching his unknown visitor draw closer, bringing with him a creeping sense of disquiet. Whoever he was, Kol Darr was certain he was trouble. 

Biting down his irritation, the retired superhero moved off the balcony and ordered the house drone to deactivate the outer shield. His bedroom was still the sty he’d clambered out of an hour before the Ranger had contacted the house informing Kol Darr he was on his way and wished to request an audience. Everywhere were empty bottles, unwashed clothes and overfull ashtrays. Kol Darr grimaced as he took in the squalor. He might be an honoured hero, but he was still the dirty peasant at heart.

Rifling through his wardrobe, he hunted out his cleanest tunic and breeches. This was a business call and appearances, however flimsy, had to be kept up.

The house drone informed him that Ranger Spencer Elmer was waiting for him in the trophy room. Kol Darr’s stomach somersaulted. Why would a lawman be coming to see him? 

Taking a deep breath, he entered the trophy room and found Elmer looking up at the display case containing his old superhero outfit. It was positioned between the deactivated Bone-beast Doctor Zombie had used to terrorise Pale Horse City and the garish orange carapace of the Millipede Man.

Kol Darr forced a smile. “Ranger Elmer, good morning.”

Spencer turned round and smiled. His eyes fixed on Kol Darr, sharp and searching. “Please, call me Spencer. It is an honour to meet the Dagger in person.” He pointed toward the exhibits. “You have quite the collection here.”

“A sad testament to a bloated ego, nothing more.” Kol Darr went over to the drinks cabinet. He had a drinks cabinet in every room. “Get you anything?” 

“Thank you, no,” Spencer said politely.

“Yes, you’re on duty I imagine.”

“It’s not that,” replied Spencer. “I don’t drink.”

“Sensible man, it’s a foul habit. “So, what forces you to visit a forgotten relic like me?” 

“You do yourself a disservice, sir. The Dagger is still wildly revered throughout the Sky States.” Was there a hint of sarcasm in his voice?

“Elmer,” Kol Darr went on, trying to keep his hand steady as he poured himself a glass of voki. “There was a Spencer Elmer in the Bounty Hunter Guild I seem to recall.”

“I’m the same one,” the Ranger said.

“You sorted out some bad business with a Chain Devil. That’s no mean feat. ”

“My reputation precedes me I see, but I had a lot of help. I’d never have destroyed the demon on my own,” replied Spencer.

“Quite, quite,” Kol Darr said thoughtfully. “And now you’re with the Rangers. Good people, every last one of them.” The liquor burned his throat as it slid down. He immediately ached for a cigarette. “They were with me when I brought down Cobra Woman back in ’34. I’d be goblin meat now if it weren’t for them bold buggers, I can tell you.”

“I’ve read the report.”

Kol Darr bridled at the indifference in Spencer’s reply, but kept his voice pleasant. “But you haven’t come all this way to listen to my ramblings. I take it this is business?”

Spencer nodded, watching Kol Darr closely. “I have been ordered to deliver something of great value to you, sir.”

As if on cue the house drone floated in, its energy arms extended. The invisible fields carried a transparent egg-shaped container.

The world fell in on Kol Darr. He didn’t look at the Ranger, but his skin crawled as he felt Spencer’s gaze locked on him. He moved as if in a trance toward the life-pod and stared down at the flimsy winged creature huddled inside.

“Where did you find her?” His voice was hoarse.

“Amazing spot of luck,” Spencer answered as if he were discussing finding a curious antique. “We’ve been having some bother with the Octopus Men again. Crazy troll lickers stole a Chimera Bomb for Maiden’s Sake. Naturally they tried to blackmail the World Government. You know the routine I’m sure. Anyway, Blue Wizard was sent in to clean up the mess. Broke into one of their spore temples and found Dark Sprite inside. They hadn’t tried to heal her as you can see, but kept her alive all these years.”

“Why?”

Spencer shrugged. “Who knows why those fanatics do anything. Luckily Blue was able to get her out without killing her outright.”

“Dark Sprite,” Kol Darr whispered the name. His sidekick was just as he remembered her. He looked up sharply. Did the Ranger know what he had done? “But why bring her here?”

“We can keep her life signs stable indefinitely but nothing more. However, there is a slight hope. Your dagger may still retain its healing properties. My superiors thought they owed it to you to bring her here to see if there’s any chance she can be being revived.”

“My dagger was shattered after I fought Chaugnar Faugn,” Kol Darr answered quickly, too quickly. Idiot! Stay calm! He continued in a more conciliatory tone, “I deeply appreciate the gesture, but I don’t see that there is anything I can do. My power is gone.”

“But you kept the shards,” Spencer replied with gentle persistence. “Magical weapons forged from Etherium retain their energies even if they are not completely whole. Maybe it is the same case for your dagger.”

Kol Darr looked involuntary to the display case beneath his outfit. Arranged on a black cushion were the silver pommel and the surviving fragments he’d managed to retrieve. They glittered at him like the frozen teeth of hell.

“Maybe it is,” Kol Darr answered quietly.

Despite being of a smaller stature to Kol Darr, Spencer seemed to loom over him. “There we are then. We always have hope, no matter what else we lose.”

* * *

Outside the study window velvet night had fallen and the mountains shimmered in the ghost light. Kol Darr stared at the reflection of the tired old man looking back at him and swallowed down the dregs of his glass.

Spencer had been eager to start there and then, but Kol Darr bluffed him with some rot of needing to prepare. It had been so long since he had used his power. The shock might kill him. Spencer had looked at him strangely, but agreed. Kol Darr had no idea if that was true, for so long he and the dagger had been literally one and the same, a sentient weapon and its wielder, but he had needed time to think.

He poured himself another voki and lit up a cigarette. It had been almost forty years ago since he and Dark Sprite had ventured up to the Sky States. She had found him broken and bleeding, lost in the black depths of the taigas of Bleakland. He was sixteen, had just escaped the massacre of his family, and had inherited a magic dagger. She was a bored immortal forest spirit looking for shiny new thrills. Dagger & Dark the newspods christened them and they became the toast of Pale Horse City.

Back then, the superhero craze was at its peak. Deranged ultra-villains threatened each of the states almost every other day and extravagant and increasingly more exotic crime fighters emerged to bring them down.

For five years the peasant boy and his spirit companion were up to their eyes in mad scientists and ruthless crime lords, adoring every single frenzied minute of it. Then came Kol Darr’s messy break up with Gazelle Girl and he started going off the rails. He fell in with Man-Bear and his hell-raising set, and was introduced to exciting new vices.

It had been at one of Man-Bear’s notorious parties. There had been a girl, Anla, nineteen years old, with legs going all the way to heaven. She simply loved superheroes and the nice plump fees from kiss and tells. Kol Darr didn’t care. They got smacked on spider dust and went back to his penthouse.

He couldn’t remember much after that. The dust must have been spliced with psychomites. When he came too, Anla’s battered corpse was sprawled at the foot of the bed. 

Dark had answered his hysterical call. He begged her, tears streaming down his face, to help him. His sidekick’s silk white eyes stared at him like he was a stranger. They dumped the body out in the wilds of Feywood to be picked clean by the savage things that lurked there.

Man-Bear and his guests were so smashed they could barely remember their own names let alone some pretty girl from a party filled with pretty girls. There were a couple of missing person reports on the newspods, but very soon Anla was forgotten.

Sometimes her battered face came to him at night, but Kol Darr usually drank so much and took so many happy pills that she had no real chance of breaking his stupor.

Only Dark Sprite was the last remaining link. After what happened, things changed. Sprite took wild risks and after an encounter with the Octopus Men, she was seemingly killed when their temple was destroyed.

Kol Darr had wanted to mourn but there had been the scolding undercurrent of relief. Then, almost immediately, the states were invaded by the Great Old One Chaugnar Faugn and his hordes of Flying Polyps. In that final terrible battle with the vampire elephant god, he had saved Pale Horse City from annihilation. His dagger, the source of his power, shattered in the fight. Kol Darr was hailed as a hero. As soon as he could, he announced his retirement and went off into the mountains. Here he had remained, rotting away in a quagmire of alcohol and pills.

Sprite might tell them the truth.

If they revived her she could reveal what he really was. Kol Darr had thought he would be relieved but in reality he was terrified. A simple, lethal solution sprung to mind. Dark would have to be already dead before the revival attempt. Elmer would be suspicious. The Ranger seemed to know more than he was letting on. However, if he did it right it would look like an accident. Sprite’s delicate body had not withstood the energy of the dagger. 

He swallowed down another drink. If he breeched the life pod she would not survive the transference . . . 

It was madness. It would never work.

A twisted smile sliced his face as he recalled Spencer’s smug platitude. “We always have hope.”

* * *

The trophy room was plunged in darkness. He could see little in the gloom except the twinkling lights of the pod. He stumbled, more from the drink than the lack of light, and cut a ragged route toward it.

He activated the pod’s holo panel and began to key in the deactivation sequence, though his mind screamed at him to stop. How many times had Sprite saved his life? How many close shaves had there been that could have been fatal? She was his oldest and probably only real friend. But if they brought her back everything he had accomplished would lie in ruins. The legend of the Dagger would come crashing down.

He wouldn’t allow it! He would not let one stupid mistake destroy it all!

“Please stop what you’re doing.”

Lights blared on, blinding him. He staggered back, dumbfounded. As his vision cleared he was looking straight at Spencer.

Instinct took over. He grabbed for the pistol he always carried with him. Spencer shook his head. “I wouldn’t.”

The house drone suddenly glided into the room its weaponry trained on him. Spencer had overridden the drone’s central controls. 

Kol Darr dropped the pistol. It was over. He smiled at the Ranger and lit up a cigarette. “How did you know?”

“Blue Wizard did revive Sprite at the temple. She didn’t last long, but she told us about Anla.”

Kol Darr nodded. “I see. But why all this?”

“It would have been your word against a dead superhero. So, we devised this ruse. Your actions have been recorded. A cruiser will be here shortly to take you back to the city.” Spencer paused, dipping his gaze. “For what it’s worth, I am sorry. You were a real hero once.”

Kol Darr looked over at his Dagger costume. “It doesn’t matter. Everything is all right now.”


	9. Bows And Arrows

The huge fist of the Plant Ape plummeted toward Spencer’s head with frightening speed. Sprawled on the ground where the Ape had thrown him, he had a few scant seconds to avoid being pulped into mush, and only just rolled clear of the attack. The fist slammed into the ground where his head had been and he quickly snatched up his blaster and sprang to his feet. He aimed the blaster at the monster and fired. 

The Plant Ape, a hulking brute over good eight feet tall, roared in pain. The blast had left a smoking hole in the sinewy vegetable matter that made up its body, but to Spencer’s horror, the wound began to seal itself up, healing completely in seconds. He had had only served to enrage the monster even further and it came on without mercy. 

He side-stepped another swipe of the Plant Ape’s colossal fists and fired off two more shots in the desperate hope they could deal some serious damage this time. The wounds again healed over just as quickly as before and the Plant Ape’s small beetle black eyes were burning with rage. It made a guttural noise at the back of its throat and came on again, swinging its overlong arms indiscriminately at the bounty hunter. 

Spencer was much quicker and darted out of the way. He turned and ran across the vast bank lobby. The Ape came close on his heels determined to tear him limb from limb. He tried to make for the entrance but he’d never make it without being taken down. He glanced down at his belt as an idea flashed in his mind. Snatching up the small orange bowl shaped device attached to his belt, he pressed a button on the device and turned to face the monster. The device left his hand and floated by its own volition until it hovered over the Plant Ape’s head. Slender crooked metal bars emerged from its bottom, enveloping the beast, and connecting together to form a misshaped cage. The Plant Ape collided with the fragile looking bars, but couldn’t break them. Enraged, it pounded and pulled at them, but the cage held in place. 

With relief, Spencer saw that the prison was holding the horror in place. The device he’d used on the Plant Ape was called a portaprison, another prototype invention designed by his good friend Professor Gepple. Able to hover above a target, it released a web of metallic strands made of marellian skrak. One of the strongest metals of the galaxy, it enveloped the target and held them captive. Spencer would have to thank his friend for letting him test the device.

He was just getting his breath back when there was a terrible ruckus coming from the bank entrance. A squad of Starband Marshals burst into the bank aiming their blaster rifles straight at him. They wore blue colored assault armor with a golden five pointed star emblazoned on their chest plates and domed shaped helmets with dark tinted visors. 

The Captain of the squad was taken aback by the bellowing caged Vine Ape and then fixed a hard look at Spencer. “Hands up now!” he yelled. “You make even the slightest move and we’ll blast you to bits!”

Spencer raised his hands wearily. “Relax. I’m on your side.” 

“Shut up!” shouted the Captain, fighting to be heard over the din of the trapped monster. “And shut up that pet of yours!”

“This bad boy’s not with me,” Spencer replied. “He was on guard when I got here. He belongs to the outlaw I’m hunting. I’ve been trailing him all the way here to Loredos City. He’s right in the process of robbing your bank. We have to stop him before he gets away.”

“You think we’re dumb?” snapped the Captain, losing his shouting competition with the Vine Ape. He stabbed a finger at the monster in irritation. “Shut that thing up!” he barked to the Star Marshal next to him.

The Marshal released a medic sprite from his utility pack that fluttered over to the Vine Ape and sprinkled sleeping dust over it. The gold powder kicked in almost straight away, and the monster slipped into a deep slumber. 

“That’s better,” Spencer said. “I can hear myself think. Look, I’m on the level here. I have clearance from Sheriff Rio Blast himself. Check the permission slip in my jacket pocket. It has his aura-graph fused into it.” 

Pulled up short at the mention of the Head of the Marshals, the Captain looked uncertain. He inclined his head toward one of his men. “Check him.”

The Marshal hurried over and searched Spencer. “We're wasting time Captain,” the bounty hunter said in an urgent voice. “The outlaw who did this is might already be escaping.”

“You talk again and I’ll blast your head off!” the Captain snarled like a rabid dog. “I’ll not have bounty hunters running loose in my city. You better not be feeding me a line or it’ll be the cells for you!” 

Spencer despaired. The Starband Marshals were trigger happy yahoos who couldn’t differentiate bounty hunters from criminals. They shot first and rarely bothered to answer questions later. 

“He checks out,” reported the Starband Marshall, running a bio-scanning over the aura-graph on the permission slip and then showing it to the Captain. Grudgingly, the Captain ordered his squad to lower their weapons. 

“What’s happening here?” he demanded, seemingly angrier with Spencer now they were both on the same side.

“I just got here, but if I were you I'd leave this to me. I know this super criminal and his methods. I might be able to stop him without anyone getting hurt.” 

A loud crash shuddered beneath them. It had come from the vault. “Diamond formation! Move it!” snapped the Captain to the Star Marshals who scrambled to obey. To Spencer he said; “Shove your opinions pal. We keep law and order in this city.”

“I’m only trying to help,” Spencer said.

The Captain ignored him as he and the squad headed toward the vault. A staircase reached down into a darkened corridor. Spencer followed behind as the squad reached the bottom of the stairs and the large chamber containing the vault. The emergency lights were on, limning the surroundings in a dark red glow. The huge circular door to the vault had literally fallen over. Spencer examined the hinges finding that they had been dissolved by some corrosive. Inside, jewels had been carelessly scattered across the floor where someone had ripped open several security boxes. No-one was in the vault.

The Captain made hand signals and the squad fanned out, stepping gingerly over the fallen metal door. Spencer hung back scanning the shadows.

A tense silence followed as the squad checked the darkened chamber and the half burgled vault. Suddenly one of the Marshals pointed to up at the ceiling close to the vault door. “Hey! What’s that?”

They all turned and trained the torches fitted into their bracers onto a plant clinging to the corner of the ceiling. The plant was almost as big as a pony and had a bulbous pink flower hanging from the top of its thick stem. As soon as the light touched it, the plant opened its petals to reveal a disturbing human-like mouth with bright green lips. The mouth opened and a thick, sickly sweet perfume flooded the room.

Dazed looks spread across the faces of the Captain and the other Starband Marshals. They lowered their guns and started to walk towards the plant. 

“What are you doing?” Spencer called, still hanging back. He caught a whiff of the overpowering perfume and felt the impulse to walk towards the plant. Unable to stop himself, his feet moved towards it.

The Marshals were now close to the plant and long vines covered with livid thorns shot out of it, wrapping around the men. As soon as the thorns connected with the bodies, the men screamed in agony as some unknown toxin pricked their skin and entered their bloodstream. They began coughing their lungs, blood streaming out of their eyes.

The gruesome sight was enough to make Spencer fight the impulse of the perfume and take a step back. He raised his laser pistol and fired at the poisonous plant, blasting it to a cinder.

The plant unleashed a hideous whine and released its prey. Spencer hurried to the fallen lawmen, but all of them were now unconscious and he could not wake them up.

Spencer backed out of the vault and made to head up the stairs to seek help for the fallen men. Before he did so, he looked back and saw a man had now appeared in the open entrance of the vault like a specter. He was clad in glistening green armour laced with vines. Around his neck four oversized petals opened out like a bizarre collar covered with thorns out of which a squat, rectangular head of vegetable matter protruded. Baleful yellow eyes blazed from the weird head above a mouth of jagged fangs. In his hand he clutched a long whip made from a slender vine that swayed from side to side like it was a living thing. 

Spencer had known who to expect all along. “Hello Ever-Mean.”

“Elmer,” The plant humanoid's voice was cold and raspy. “Always turning up where you're not wanted. Don't you ever get tired of being irritating?”

“Can't say that I do, though I could ask if you ever get tired of being a pitiless killer?”

Ever-Mean made a dismissive gesture towards the Starband Marshals. “They should not have got in my way. If the imbeciles at the Intergalactic Science Foundation valued my genius I would not have to resort to such measures to fund my research.”

Spencer dreaded what kind of research it would be. Ever-Mean, or Sero Malustro, as he was once known, had been an alchemical botanist working for one of the big galaxycorps. An unfortunate gambling vice led him to start selling his employer's secrets to rival corporations. He had been found out and dismissed. Desperate for money, he used his vast knowledge of plants, fungus and poisons to further his own ends, experimenting on himself and eventually becoming the outlaw Ever-Mean. Spencer had put him in Prison Star a year ago when Ever-Mean tried to contaminate Gorn City's water supply. He had heard the supervillain had escaped a couple of months ago and gone underground. Spencer had been expecting the rogue to make a grand return to the limelight. 

“I think the Loredos has had quite enough of your research, Sero.” Spencer circled him, ready for violence. “Look, let’s face facts. This robbery of yours is a botched job. More Marshals will be pouring down on us anytime soon. Do us both a favour and surrender quietly.”

Ever-Mean laughed gruffly. “I never did get to thank you for throwing me into Prison Star. I think maybe now is just the right opportunity to do that.”

Suddenly Ever-Mean made a strike with his vine whip, sending out it toward Spencer’s face. Spencer jumped out of the way and opened fire with his laser pistol. Ever-Mean placed his arm across his body and a circular shield of thorns sprouted from the bracer he wore. The blasts landed into the tangle of thorns harmlessly. He then pulled a gnarled, tree-like gun from his holster and aimed it at Spencer. He fired, and a dozen bullet shaped seeds shot towards the bounty hunter. Spencer darted for the cover of a nearby pillar as the bullet seeds slammed into the concrete. As soon as they made impact the seeds split open and long lilac coloured roots reached out and wrapped around bounty hunter, tying him to the pillar.

“I’ve been working on some new weapons since we last met,” Ever-Mean gloated. “This time you won’t find me such a pushover.”

As the roots tightened around Spencer’s body pressing him closer an arrow shot passed him toward the villain. The arrow was golden and its tip was shaped like a red heart. Ever-Mean was taken off-guard and the arrow made a direct hit on his chest plate. The heart exploded, enveloping him in a cloud of sparkly purple smoke.

Spencer turned his head as a young dark skinned lad, wearing a tight fitting tunic with a heart emblazoned on it, and blue leggings, stepped from the shadows. He held an elegant gold coloured bow in his hands, which he slowly lowered. He turned to Spencer and flashed a boyish smile of dazzling white teeth.

“Hey, Spencer,” the boy said. “You looking a little tied up there, buddy.”

“Bow!” exclaimed Spencer. “What are you doing here?”

“Same as you,” Bow replied. “I came to collect the bounty on Ever-Mean. Looks like I got here in the nick of time.”

“Would you mind getting me out of this please?” replied Spencer.

“Oh sure,” said Bow. He nocked another arrow and fired it into the nearest root. As soon as it hit home, specially designed vents opened in the arrow’s side and released a spray that settled like a fine mist over Spencer and the pillar. In a few moments all the roots turned grey and crumbled away, allowing him to step free.

“Thanks,” Spencer said, moving away from the pillar and brushing himself down. “What is that?”

“My All Purpose Weird Plant Thingys Removal Arrow,” Bow said proudly. “That’s what I call it anyway. The Etherian Makers Community helped knock it up for me. I knew I had to come extra prepared when tangling with a creepazoid like Ever-Mean.” 

“Well, I guess you get the bounty then,” Spencer said, feeling a little disappointed. “He’s all yours.”

“Nah, we can split the bounty, buddy. I had no idea where Ever-Mean was until I heard you’d come to Loredos. I guessed you’d be tracking him too. So it’s only fair you get half for doing the legwork.”

“I’M NOT FINISHED YET!!!” roared Ever-Mean suddenly bursting out of the purple gas.

“Awww man, that sleeping gas arrow should have been able to knock out a Rancor,” griped Bow. “I’ll have to get them modified.”

Ever-Mean aimed his gun and started firing seed bullets at the bounty hunters. “Don’t ignore me!” he screamed. 

The two bounty hunters separated and rushed in opposite directions to avoid the oncoming barrage. Where each one impacted, roots sprouted soon creating a confused tangle that spread like a web across the room.

“You can’t stop me!” Ever-Mean cackled. “I’m Ever-Mean! I’m invincible!”

“You’re insufferable!” yelled back Bow. “Here! Try this on for size.”

He knocked an arrow with a pink rabbit head on it, and fired it at the villain. The arrow flew in a perfect arc across the room. The arrowhead spilt open and hundreds of tiny pink robot rabbits the size of grasshoppers came out of it. They rained down on Ever-Mean, making him stumble and loose his balance. He tried to get up, but the rabbits jumped all over his body, biting him with their sharp metallic teeth.

“Argh! Get off me!” Ever-Mean fumed.

Seizing the advantage, Spencer rushed forward holding a small bronze mirror in his hand which he pointed at Ever-Mean’s face. The mirror flashed with white light and Ever-Mean fell unconscious.

“Hey, that’s a Pakled Stun Mirror,” Bow said, obviously impressed as he came over to join Spencer. “Where did you get your hands on one of those?”

“I won it in a Sabacc game,” Spencer said. 

“Wow, they are so rare,” Bow said with awe in his voice. “I’m totally jealous!”

“You can study it if you want and design one of your own,” Spencer offered, handing him the Stun Mirror.

“I can? Jilly Jinkins! Thanks a lot!” Bow said with delight.

While the other bounty hunter was examining the Mirror, Spencer looked at the robot bunnies, which were still jumping around on top of the unconscious Ever-Mean. “What are those?”

“Oh, that’s My Explode Into Hundreds Of Pink Robot Rabbits Arrow,” Bow said in a distracted voice as he tried to prise open the Stun Mirror to see inside it. “It’s my own design. Would you like a few of them for yourself?”

One of the rabbits jumped off Ever-Mean and started gnawing enthusiastically at Spencer’s ankle. “Um, I think I’m okay with the gear I’ve already got thanks.”

Just then, a large group of Starband Marshals came charging into the vault. They stopped short, agog at the twisted roots. Spencer raised his hand. “No dramas guys, but you better check on your comrades over there,” he said. “The party's over. We got the bad man.”


End file.
